


And Then There's You

by firefright



Series: Family Matters [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Courtship, Cute Kids, F/M, Getting Together, Halloween, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Omega Jason Todd, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 114,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6112612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after rescuing Damian from Talia, Jason thinks he has a pretty good life going. He's made peace with his pack, his son is safe, and as far as he's concerned there's nothing more he could possibly need to be happy. That is until Dick arrives back in Gotham for the Halloween season, forcing Jason to finally confront the feelings he's held for his predecessor since he was fourteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually ended up working on this story a lot sooner than I thought I would! And I'm pretty excited to post it up, since I'm complete A/B/O trash as you all know. So far I have four chapters finished including this one, and will probably be posting them at a bi-weekly rate as before to give myself a nice buffer while I work on the rest of the story. 
> 
> For those who haven't read 'A Matter of Family' I highly recommend checking out that story first for this one to make better sense to you. Also in terms of my specific A/B/O-verse terminology, mother refers to the one who bears a child, whereas father or sire refers to the one who does the inseminating, regardless of whether they be male or female :)
> 
> That said, let the fic commence!

"Oracle, this is Nightwing. You there?"

It's October, Halloween looms on the horizon, and a chill wind chases Nightwing as he reacquaints himself with the city of his childhood, feeling out the differences between Bludhaven and her older, more sinister sister anew. This is the time of year when all Bats and Birds come home at their alpha's call, forming ranks against the inevitable chaos the holiday will inspire in the city's rogues.

"Here and picking you up loud and clear, boy wonder." Bab's voice sounds pleasantly in his ear, backed up by the sound of clicking keys. "What can I do for you?"

Dick grins as he swings off a flag pole and onto the rooftop of the Gotham City Bank. In the distance Bab's clock tower stands tall and proud. He lifts his arm to wave accordingly, sure that she's watching him somehow through one of the city's many networks of security cameras. "Things seem pretty quiet tonight, so unless you know of any ongoing emergencies I should go take a look at, I'm going on break. Yell if you need me?"

On her end Barbara snorts fondly, "It's all clear for now. Go get something to eat, Dick, we don't want you fainting off a rooftop like the damsel you are."

"You're the best, Bab's. I'll let you know when I'm back in action."

Dick cuts the connection before Barbara can make another quip at his expense and eyes the little Thai place across the street. Say what you will about Gotham, the ability to get fast food at any hour of the day is a definite perk to being back in the city. The two guys staffing the place don't even bat an eyelid at the vigilante coming in the front door and ordering two number fives at almost one in the morning.

One impatient ten minute wait for food later, Dick's swinging up to the top of the apartment building two blocks over. He drops down expertly onto the thin ledge outside the window of one of the upper apartments, nimbly balancing his bag of food in one arm while he knocks on the glass with the other. 

If he really wanted to he could just go ahead and let himself in, but considering who the owner of this particular apartment is, it's far less dangerous to wait for permission first. Happily, he doesn't have to wait for long.

A minute after he knocks Jason appears, rolling his eyes at Nightwing as he cheerfully waves at him through the glass. Dick quickly edges back out of the way while Jason disables the security measures to let him inside.

"You know," Jason says dryly, as the vigilante climbs in through the window, "When you said midnight snack I actually thought you'd turn up at midnight."

"Sorry, Jay. There were a couple guys casing a jewellery store I had to stop and have a discouraging chat with first." Dick holds out the bag of curry as a peace offering, trying to appear appropriately contrite. "I got you your favourite?"

Jason barely waits ten seconds before snatching the food out of his hand, "Sometimes it's like you forget I have a three year-old who likes to be up at the ass-crack of dawn." He grumbles, "Take a seat, Dickface."

Jason disappears into the kitchen to put out the food and Dick, with permission, makes himself at home, sinking down onto the leather three-seater couch in the middle of the living room and peeling off his mask.

It feels good to be here, back in Gotham and back in Jason's place after a good four weeks absence but for the occasional Skype call. Bludhaven eats up his time, and Dick loves the job, of course he does, yet more and more he finds himself hearing the call of family, of pack, and longing to be elsewhere. It's a hard thing to live with, and if he's honest with himself tied very much to the reappearance of Jason back in his life with Damian two years before.

He's not honest with himself very often.

But that thought doesn't stop Dick from taking a moment to just breathe it in. He can't ignore the way the entire apartment smells warm and welcoming, like a proper family den. Jason's long tenure here means his scent has soaked into every inch of the place. It's rich and heady, threaded with the younger presence of Damian, whose smell - while still sweet like the scents of most children - is coated with an underlying edge that hints of the alpha he'll one day be. 

Right now his nephew is asleep, but later today Dick's arranged to have both him and his mother out for an afternoon of fun. He's not ashamed to admit that being Uncle Duck is probably the most fulfilling thing in his life right now alongside crime fighting.

(And how Bruce stands to have Jason and Damian out here, so near and yet so far from the manor, Dick just doesn't know.)

"Hey, earth to Dick, don't go zoning out on my couch."

"Mm?" Dick opens his eyes, unaware of when he actually closed them. Jason is setting down loaded plates of curry and rice in front of him. "Sorry Jay, just a little tired I guess."

"Don't tell me a couple regular thieves wore you out that much." Jason says it casually enough, but Dick still catches the flash of suppressed longing in his eyes. Even having a child he adores isn't enough to fight off the vigilante bug forever. Jason sits next to Dick in the middle of the sofa and that's so much progress from when he first came back, when Jason would much rather have kept as much distance between them as possible.

It's the least of the good developments that came out of the chaos of Damian's kidnapping by Talia two years ago, and Dick marvels sometimes to think how far they've come. Jason had transformed from a disturbing and terrifying unknown enemy back into a member of their pack, working through so much of his anger and feelings of betrayal as Dick, Bruce and Alfred endeavoured to help him understand that he really was still loved and valued despite what he'd done - and that the Joker still drawing breath didn't take away from that fact.

It hasn't been easy, but here they are, sharing dinner and poking fun at each other the same way they did when they were teenagers. In the best moments it's like the bad years never even happened.

The smell of the food is too tempting to let sit for even a moment, so Dick grabs up his plate and inhales a mouthful first before answering.

"It's just been a long day. I went up to the manor first after leaving Bludhaven this morning." He lets out an appreciative moan as the spices burst across his tongue, "Oh God, this is amazing."

Jason snorts softly at him, digging into his own food at a more leisurely pace. "Don't choke, moron. Did you see Tim up there?"

It's spoken quietly, but the question is there nonetheless, and Dick's never been so grateful that Jason dropped calling Tim 'replacement' months ago except for when the third Robin does something to really annoy him. "Yeah," he murmurs, "Yeah, he seems to be doing better. We're meeting up later for a drug bust."

"Just a drug bust?"

"For now. We haven't picked up on anything worse yet."

Yet being the operative word. Bruce's briefing earlier had been very thorough about being high alert at all times though the coming month. Halloween makes his usual paranoia look like mild suspicion in comparison.

"He's been over here a lot." At Dick's surprised look Jason shrugs awkwardly and explains. "To see Damian, not me. I think it's helping him."

"Oh." Dick thinks he can understand why. Children are relatively simple and uncomplicated, especially at Damian's age; not nearly so much of a minefield as dealing with adults or teenagers Tim's own age must be for him right now. God knows his baby brother needs whatever comfort he can find. 

Another reason why Dick feels so bad about his absence of late. 

"That's good of you, Jay."

A faint flush lights Jason's cheeks. "Whatever. Little shit's not so bad. And it's not like the rest of us don't know what it's like to lose people we care about."

Dick sets down his fork and reaches for Jason's arm, curling his fingers around his wrist. He can't feel Jason's skin through the fabric of his gloves, but the contact still makes his body thrum pleasantly, and though Jason's eyes dart away from him the swell of pheromones in the air betrays his actual reaction. "I mean it."

"Whatever." Red-faced at the praise, Jason shovels in a mouthful of curry, "Eat your damn food."

Dick grins but lets him go, trying not to think about how reluctant he is to do so these days. There are certain thoughts he tries not to have around Jason, too wary of all he's been through to let himself entertain them. "Sure thing, mom."

The odd tension in the air dissolves as his brother huffs in amusement. "Idiot."

The rest of the meal passes in idle chatter about Jason and Damian's lives, and Dick smiles when Jason goes on a tangent about Damian getting excited about Halloween thanks to TV specials and the decorations already scattered about town ("How do you explain to a three year old he can't go trick or treating because this city is insane, Dick? How?!"), as well as his ongoing battle against Damian's insistence they get a pet.

The latter is pretty much entirely Dick's fault, but who's counting.

He listens to Jason complain good-naturedly until he's cleared his plate and is feeling up to a couple more hours of dealing with Gotham's nightly bullshit. "So, is Damian excited about tomorrow?"

"Excited? Try bouncing off the walls." Jason groans at the reminder, the sound of a exasperated parent that Dick can sometimes remember his mother making when he'd gotten into something he shouldn't. Which was often. "It took me a whole extra hour to get him to settle down for bed tonight. I was about ready to call you up and bust your chops for it, still might in fact."

"Even after I bought you dinner?"

"Bringing me food doesn't let you off the hook for everything, Dick."

"Just most things right?" He grins, but Jason suddenly looks away, rubbing his bare foot across the floor. Smile quickly fading, Dick wonders what he's done wrong. If he's done something wrong. "Jay?"

"Don't you have criminals to go out and chase, Dick?"

He shifts uncomfortably, unable to deny that fact and fighting the urge to find an excuse to linger longer in the simple homeliness of Jason's apartment. But no, he has to a job to do. "Yeah, yeah I better get back out there, I guess." Dick stands up and reaches to pick up his plate to take it back to the kitchen, but before he can Jason knocks his hand aside and shakes his head.

"I got it. You have better things to do."

"You know," Dick stops at the window, the cool air of Gotham's night beckoning him. "if you wanted to go out again I'm sure Bruce would let you. It's been two years, Jay, you could -"

Jason puts his hand on the window sill, levelling Dick with a look that shuts him up right away. "I could what? Put on a suit and play nice vigilante?" He shakes his head, "I can't - Bruce won't trust me, Dick. You know that."

"Bruce already does trust you." Dick argues, pressing his mask back onto his face. He doesn't know why Jason is so set on fighting that point every time it comes up. It's been so long since he came home and he still does it, driving Dick up the wall. "Come on, Jason. I know you want to."

"If I want something, Dick, I'll let you know. If and when I'm ready." He glares at Dick for a moment, before his expression softens just a little. "Go beat up some drug peddling bastards, Nightwing, Robin's waiting for you."

Dick doesn't want to give up the argument, yet Jason has an unfortunate point. Tim is expecting him by the docks and after everything that's happened he can't pass up spending time with his youngest brother. He just hates when Jason does this to him, sidestepping his legitimate points with convenient distractions. 

"Fine, but just think about it okay, Jay? If you don't want to that's all well and good, but," He smiles at him, "I know I'd be glad to have you out there at my back."

It shouldn't feel so good to see Jason's face colour again the way it does, but Dick's starting to get used to the feeling. He can't resist giving him a wink as he tips himself out the window in a backwards somersault and shoots off his grapple, admittedly showing off a little as he swings out into the night.

He doesn't miss Jason giving him the middle finger as he rearms the security on the window either.

 

*

 

The first thing Jason thinks when Damian wakes him up at 6:37am is _Fuck you, Dick._

The second is that he needs coffee and a heavy concentration of it, then a strong cup of tea to wash the taste out of his mouth. Christ, the only reason he has coffee in the house (the extra-awful instant kind) is because Tim's been coming around so much lately.

"Mommy, wake up! Wake up!" Damian bounces exuberantly on the bed next to him, "Go see Uncle Duck!"

"Dami," Jason groans at the assault, resisting the urge to pull the pillow over his face as he stubbornly closes his eyes against the brightness of the alarm clock he keeps next to the bed, "we don't see Uncle Duck for another six hours. It's too early, kiddo."

He doesn't need to see Damian to know he's giving him a mighty frown at this pronouncement. "But mommy, wanna go now." His son insists, like he can bend the rules of time and space around him if he just tries hard enough.

"Uncle Duck's asleep, like all reasonable people should be at this hour." Jason yawns mightily, before blindly reaching to pull his son down against his side. "Same goes for little monsters."

"But I'm ready to go now." To punctuate the validity of this statement, Damian thumps his head heavily against his mother's ribs.

Reluctantly cracking open one eye, Jason snorts when he sees his three year-old son still in his Wonder Woman pyjamas, with Daw the Dog clutched tight in his right hand. Two years after he and Damian were introduced to one another, the little toy is showing all the signs of being well loved, with chewed ears and missing patches of fur, as well as a button eye that had to be sewed back on by Alfred last week when Damian lost the original. 

"Uh huh. Well, mommy's not ready and neither is Uncle Duck, so good little boys will have to wait."

He bites down on a laugh as Damian whines and headbutts his chest again. It only hurts a little. "I can' wait!"

Normally Jason would respond to this situation by laying down the law, wary of letting the little alpha push his boundaries too far, but today is meant to be a good day and honestly he's too tired for a battle. So he tries the time honoured method of bribery instead.

"Okay, Damian," Jason rolls over, trapping Damian underneath him as he rubs his nose affectionately against his son's temple, "How about this, if you can wait and be patient, we'll get ice-cream after we see Uncle Duck. Deal?"

"Ice-cream?" 

"Ice-cream." He promises, kissing Damian's soft cheek as he settles himself back down, "Just let mommy sleep a little longer." 

Damian makes a grumbly little sound but doesn't fight him, tucking his head in against Jason's neck, and Jason can feel his little fingers playing with the fabric of the old t-shirt he wears to sleep in as he soon drifts back off to sleep again.

All in all, the promise of ice-cream earns him about another thirty minutes of shut-eye before Damian starts wriggling around impatiently and Jason is forced to confront the reality of rising to face the day. It's a long way away still, but he longs for the promise of a future where Damian is old enough to get himself up and sorted in a morning with Jason's help.

... and also for a child gate his son can't figure out how to jimmy open or climb over like some kind of Houdini. Jason glares at the current one as they pass by the door to Damian's bedroom hand in hand, reflecting that his kid is too smart for his own good. Maybe he'll ask Roy to build him some kind of magnetically locking contraption later, complete with key cards to get in and out.

But first they have to get through the rest of the morning. 

Jason manages to pacify Damian's impatience to leave with cartoons and a breakfast consisting of toast with slices of banana, all while nursing a never ending stream of caffeine to fight off the urge to crawl back to bed. Being so long out of the vigilante game has almost completely ruined his ability to exist on next to no sleep thanks to Damian.

You can't be nocturnal with a toddler, it's just not possible.

"I hate you, Dick." he mumbles to himself again at the thought. What had he even been thinking by agreeing to let Dick come around for dinner that late in the first place? To let Dick _buy_ him dinner, as he so put it.

That had been the spark that turned Jason's mood last night, not the accurate insinuation that he had a longing to get back into crime fighting. No, that had just been the icing on the cake. More specifically it was the way Dick had said it, so easy and casual like it was nothing. Like it was _normal _. That had been what brought Jason's walls up.__

__It was such a dumb teenage reaction that Jason's determined never to let the thought see the light of day again._ _

__The sound of Duplo blocks toppling onto the floor startles him out of his reverie. Jason glances at the clock on the wall to realise that it's already noon and God _damn it_ , they really have to get going now if they want to meet Dick on time._ _

__"Okay, listen up monster," He pours what's left of his cold tea down the sink and sets the cup on the counter to wash later. In front of the television Damian pauses in playing with his farmyard set, green eyes shining in anticipation for his next words. "Your mission is to go put your shoes on, then meet mommy by the front door for coat assignment. Got it?"_ _

__"Time go see Uncle Duck?!" Damian bursts out in excitement, scrambling up to his feet with a plastic cow still in hand._ _

__"Time go see Uncle Duck." Jason calmly confirms, chortling to himself as Damian takes off like the proverbial bat out of hell to find his shoes._ _

__At a more leisurely pace he slips his own boots on, then his jacket, and makes sure all the electronics are off before taking up his keys to meet Damian by the door. He's not surprised to see Damian come out of his room wearing his Batman-themed velcro sneakers, and Jason checks to make sure he's fastened the straps tightly enough before helping him into a snug little blue coat and matching hat._ _

__"Smart, huh?"_ _

__"Smart." Damian confirms, bouncing on the heels of his feet before obediently taking Jason's hand as they go out the door and head for the elevator to the building's private garage. He's still carrying the plastic cow in his other hand._ _

__Jason doesn't mind. Damian's allowed to take a toy out with him when they leave the apartment, so long as he understands that it's his responsibility not to lose it. It's just one of many rules they follow when they go outside. Rules that Jason has taken excessive care to impress on his son the importance of, because the risk of an appearance by Damian's other parent or her emissaries still hangs over his head like the figurative sword of Damocles; a potential disaster always in the making._ _

__Unless told otherwise Damian always has to hold his hand, always stay close, and never, ever wander off. Then, in the case they ever do get attacked, he's under strict instructions to run and hide the best he can until he see's someone he knows._ _

__For most parents the potential of child abduction is an unlikely fear, but for Jason it's an all too real possibility. It's the reason why he never steps outside without batarangs and other gadgets hidden in his jacket, despite being constantly assured by his pack that they're on top of tracking the League's movements. And why Damian has trackers in his coat and shoes._ _

__It makes Jason sad that it has to be this way, that he can't be the fun relaxed parent he'd like to be, but he does his best not to let it carry over to Damian more than he has to. His son thinks it's all a game._ _

__Hopefully Jason will never have to correct him on that fact._ _

__

__*_ _

__

__They find the address Dick gave Jason with relative ease._ _

__It's called the Fly-By Gym. A name that alludes to the more specialised nature of what skills can be practised here, and located closer to the industrial side of town rather than the residential areas where most modern fitness centres station themselves - which makes Jason wonder how Dick even found this place. He decides that circus folk must have such connections as a matter of course. After all, fresh blood has to come into the ring from somewhere._ _

__Damian's already wriggling excitedly in his seat by the time Jason puts the car into park. He's forced to hold extra tight to his son's hand to stop him from running off ahead as they step inside the dilapidated looking building - honestly it looks more like an old factory than a gym - to find Dick already waiting in the reception area. The smile he turns on Jason and Damian is radiant._ _

__"Little D!"_ _

__Jason releases Damian as Dick steps forward to sweep him up into his arms, ruffling his hair before turning the boy upside down to dangle with his head near Dick's knees. It does Jason's stomach a funny turn as he watches the pair of them together, and Damian giggles the entire time._ _

__"Uncle Duck! Tapeasy and ice-cream!"_ _

__"Huh?" Not surprisingly Dick has to ask for clarification with Damian's particular brand of pronunciation, "What's that?"_ _

__His son huffs as he tries to right himself again. "Tap- _easy_ and ice-cream." he enunciates._ _

__"I promised him ice-cream later." Jason explains to Dick quickly, "You know, after you finish dangling my son twenty feet up in the air." He still may not be completely comfortable with this._ _

__Dick gives him a smile that's effortlessly charming. His scent - naturally strong on the air - urges Jason to relax, but he refuses to give himself over to that bullshit chemical reassurance. "It's perfectly safe, Jay, I promise. There's a net and I'll be up there with him the whole time. Right squirt?"_ _

__"Yah!"_ _

__"Yeah!" Dick spins Damian the right way up and sets him back down on his feet, holding onto his shoulders for a few seconds to make sure he's not so dizzy as to fall. "Come on, you trust me right?"_ _

__Jason grunts his assent irritably. He hates when Dick asks him that._ _

__They move out of the reception area, past an old woman knitting behind the desk, wearing the most horrific paisley sweater Jason's ever seen, and down a corridor. She's the only other person who seems to be around. "You rent out the entire place?" he asks._ _

__"Didn't have to, it's always quiet on a Wednesday."_ _

__"Aren't you worried about, y'know, someone seeing us?"_ _

__Dick looks back at him, holding onto Damian's hand to stop him running off ahead as they walk. The toddler is a ball of energy, his normally shy nature when they're out in public overcome by his excitement. "What do you mean?"_ _

__"C'mon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's heir, walking into some dive like this with an unknown omega and kid. The press would have a field day."_ _

__"Don't worry about it, Jay." Dick shakes his head, "And it's not a dive. I've been coming here since my Robin days. I know everyone and everyone knows me, and circus folk don't tell on each other; even the one's who don't live in the circus." He elbows Jason gently, "Besides, I don't care what anybody thinks of me being with you."_ _

__"Bruce might." Jason says darkly, muttering as he tries to keep the conversation above Damian's head. "I'm supposed to be dead remember? If my picture got in the media someone would put two and two together."_ _

__They've had this conversation before, and just like those other times Dick takes it as a sign to move closer to him instead of further away like a sensible person would. The couple inches of space between them feel electric. "Jason, it'll be fine. Relax." He nudges their shoulders together, the briefest contact. "I wouldn't fetch you or Damian anywhere I didn't think was safe."_ _

__"I know." Jason eventually relents as they push through a set of double doors, and anywhere else that conversation might have gone is blown away by the sight of the simple set-up in front of them._ _

__It's nowhere close to being an actual big top. For one thing the trapeze bar hangs much closer to the ground (not at all comparable to the skyscrapers the Bats throw themselves off of each night), and there's a net just as Dick promised him there would be, with huge heavy duty mattresses underneath it as an extra preventative measure against anyone getting hurt while falling._ _

__Even so, it's more than enough to impress Damian, who has spent the last few weeks watching dozens of videos on Youtube of actual trapeze acts ever since he spied the old Flying Grayson's poster in Dick's room at the manor and made him explain to him what it was._ _

__"Tap-easy! Tap-easy!" He bounces excitedly, pulling on Dick's hand with the urge to run forwards. There's a set-up for a tightrope as well just two feet up from the floor, which Jason would honestly be more comfortable with Damian attempting first._ _

__Dick grins and lets Damian go run up ahead of them. His little hands grasp the bottom of the ladder far too eagerly, but luckily he's not big enough to climb up those rungs by himself yet._ _

__"You know he's probably going to chicken out once he gets up there, right?" Jason warns Dick, as he has a lot of experience with the fluctuating bravery of toddlers. "It looks exciting to him now, but he'll get scared once he realises how high it really is."_ _

__"Jay, you live in a tenth floor apartment."_ _

__Jason shakes his head, "Having a solid floor under your feet at a height is different from swinging out over it on a rope."_ _

__"Little D's brave, he can handle it."_ _

__"Yeah well, you didn't see him on the big slide at the park last week. I actually had to get up there and carry him down."_ _

__"Have some faith, Jay. He's your kid after all." Dick looks like he's fighting against laughing at the image of Jason squeezing himself up onto a children's playset: and to be fair it actually was pretty funny in hindsight (having children really destroys any sense of dignity you have after a while). "I bet you he goes through with it."_ _

__Jason shoves his hands in his pockets. "If you're wrong then you're paying for our ice-cream."_ _

__"Fine," Dick agrees far too readily. There's a sly look about his face that Jason doesn't like one bit. "But if I'm right then you have to come out on a run with me."_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"You heard me. Come out on a run with me, Jay, just for an hour."_ _

__There's no mistaking what Dick means by a 'run', and it's certainly not a jog round Endsbury Park._ _

__"Dick, I can't."_ _

__"Yes you can. We'll ask Cass or Tim to come babysit." Dick is far too eager about the idea, leaning into Jason's space and giving him the puppy-eyed look that's been known to test even Alfred's resolve. "One hour, no crime-fighting, just a swing round the neighbourhood. Bruce wouldn't even have to know. Please?"_ _

__"I -"_ _

__"Uncle Duck!" Damian's voice cuts into the conversation, loud and demanding. He's huffing and stamping his foot as he fails to get up the ladder. "Can't climb it!"_ _

__"I'll be there in a second, little D. Stay on the ground!" Dick calls over his shoulder before looking back at Jason. "Come on, what do you say?"_ _

__Jason frowns at Dick for a long moment, and it must be Pit-madness infecting him all over again, because he sighs and nods in acceptance of the stupid bet. Dick's resulting grin is triumphant. "Okay, let's do this."_ _

__He turns away and jogs over to join Damian, Jason following after him to take his son's hat and coat while listening to the safety talk Dick gives before they head up the ladder. He's fairly sure Damian won't go through with it, almost completely. It's just a dumb bet and they'll get free ice-cream in exchange, probably after letting Damian try the tightrope that's so much closer to the ground._ _

__One lesson Jason will always take to heart after today is never to underestimate his son._ _

__Up at the top, even with Dick crouched behind him and talking in his ear, Damian is suddenly nervous. The trapeze bar looks too big in his small hands as he presses back against his uncle, and Jason's heart is in his mouth. He honestly doesn't know if he should shout encouragement or tell Damian it's okay to come back down._ _

__Just because Dick's parents had him up in the rigging by the time he could walk doesn't mean everyone's children should be, but eventually his maternal need for Damian to succeed in everything he does wins out. "It's okay, Damian! You can do it!"_ _

__He's only swinging out, no flips or fancy tricks, it's fine._ _

__"Mommy, it's high!" Damian calls back down, his little face all scrunched up._ _

__"I know, baby, but it's safe. The net will catch you, okay? Be brave. You're brave right?"_ _

__Damian nods at once and Jason reads in his face the way he turns the thought over in his head before making a decision. His feet nudge closer to the edge of the platform and Dick whispers some final words of encouragement into his ear before he steps off._ _

__It's a slow swing, which makes Jason wonder if Dick did something to the rigging before they got here to make it that way. He wouldn't be surprised for his older packmate to have considered every angle before taking Damian up there._ _

__His son's face reads fear, then sudden thrilled delight as he swoops through the air, and even though he doesn't manage to hold on long he's laughing his ridiculously high-pitched toddler giggle as he falls into the net, arms and legs tucked in just as he was instructed to do. Jason doesn't waste time in bounding forwards to climb up and pull him out of the netting, back into the safety of his arms._ _

__Damian's breath is hot and quick against his cheek, soft arms wrapped tight around his neck in his excitement. "Mommy, did you see! I did it, I did tap-easy!"_ _

__"You sure did, kiddo. You sure did." Jason tucks his nose in against his temple, unrestrainedly grinning himself. "You were amazing up there."_ _

__There's a squeak of springs as Dick jumps down to join them, somersaulting forwards to land in the net perfectly, and Jason looks up, rolling his eyes as Dick reaches out a hand beseechingly for help he doesn't need in climbing down. Jason give it anyway, floating high on Damian's triumph as their fingers meet._ _

__"Uncle Duck, did you see?!" His son demands as soon as he realises Dick's there._ _

__"Yeah buddy, I saw. You were super cool." Dick smiles down at him, his hand lingering in Jason's as the pair of them gather around Damian. "Cooler than Batman."_ _

__Jason bites down on a laugh as Damian takes in this exceptional praise. He's too young yet to be trusted with keeping the secret of his family's nightly activities, so Bruce's alter-ego remains unknown to him. It'll be a fun day when he does find out; despite Jason's best efforts to turn him to Wonder Woman, Batman is already one of Damian's favourite heroes._ _

__Damian giggles and leans back, pointing back up at the platform. "Wanna go again!"_ _

__"How did I know that was coming?" Jason rolls his eyes before looking at Dick, "What do you say, a couple more tries and then ice-cream?"_ _

__"Sounds good to me. How about you, little D?"_ _

__"Tap-easy and ice-cream." Damian says with a serious nod, before reaching to leave Jason's hold for Dick's. "Hurry!"_ _

__"Okay, okay." Dick grins, hand finally sliding free of Jason's as he tosses Damian over his shoulder and heads back for the ladder. "As you command."_ _

__It ends up being three more swings on the trapeze, plus some handstands and cartwheels across the training mats with a promise to come back again in the future before they manage to get Damian out of the building. They leave their car and Dick's bike parked up by the gym as Jason walks on one side of Damian while Dick takes the other, both of them holding his hands as they make their way to the little ice-cream parlour located round the corner._ _

__It isn't until Jason's polishing off a cup of neopolitan (having chosen to abstain from the novelty pumpkin flavour that Dick and Damian are both devouring) that he remembers he's now obligated to go out for a run with Dick at some point. The funny thing is, as he realises quickly after leaving to return home with Damian, he's not actually annoyed about Dick nudging him into the whole stupid bet. Quite the opposite in fact._ _

__He's looking forward to it._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Tim can't believe his ears as he looks up from his laptop at Jason. "You want me to what?"

Jason, who couldn't look more self-conscious if he tried.

"Babysit Damian for an hour on Sunday night." He has his arms folded tight over his chest, and Jason's mouth presses into a thin line between every word like he's literally having to force the sentence out. "Cass had to take off to Shanghai yesterday and there's no one else I can ask."

"Wow," Tim replies in the only way he can to that stellar commendation, his voice completely deadpan. "Thanks."

With a roll of his eyes, the second Robin drops down next to Tim on the antique couch he's occupying in the library. The sudden impact makes both the small piece of furniture and Tim jolt in protest. "Asshole. You know I didn't mean it like that. Come on, do me a favour."

Tim's not so sure he believes that, but the very act of Jason asking him for a favour in the first place is intriguing in itself. He quickly decides that this is a conversation worth giving his full attention and closes his computer. "What for? Not that I'm opposed to the idea, but you've never asked anyone other than Alfred to watch Damian for you before. In fact, the only place you ever go without him is therapy." 

Discounting the period of time that Damian had spent in Talia's custody, of course.

There's definitely something suspicious about the way Jason immediately twitches and looks away from him at the question. "I am not that bad."

"Yeah, no. You really are." Tim yawns, stretching his arms up above his head and hissing as his back cracks loudly. He must have been bent over the screen longer than he thought - and it's hardly the first time he's done that of late, what with the way he's been pouring himself in Wayne Enterprises work during his recently extended absence from the Titans. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"You might as well tell me. I'm going to find out anyway if I agree to this."

He's pretty much immune to Jason's glares at this point, or maybe he's just stopped caring after being on the receiving end for so long. Tim had been quick in the beginning to learn that dealing with Jason could be like dealing with a scorpion, one that would lash out at the barest opportunity, but eventually, if you let it sting you enough, you could build up enough of a tolerance that you wouldn't even feel it anymore.

(Or maybe, just maybe, you would come to the understanding that the only reason the scorpion stung you in the first place was out of pain and fear. Fear of being replaced, and forgotten.)

Finally his brother, who only a few months ago finally became comfortable with the title, sighs, sinking back into the couch cushions as if they could swallow him whole. "Fine. Dick asked me to go out on a run with him."

"A run?" Tim is careful about his tone as he says this, already reading the faint undercurrent of tension in Jason's posture as well as his pheromones. Like others (namely everyone but Bruce, who seemed to be remaining purposefully ignorant on the subject) he's been watching the build up of attraction between the older alpha and omega for some time. "Like..."

"Like full style vigilante swinging across rooftops, yeah." Jason blinks slowly, studying the light fixture over their heads with the same concentration an art critic would give a lost Monet. "I can't just ask Alfred to watch him here or Bruce will figure it out, and I don't want to deal with the shit storm that would bring."

Somewhere in the back of Tim's head 'A Whole New World' from _Aladdin_ has just started playing. He has to resist the urge to pull out his phone and send a text to Cass to let her know what she's missing. 

"I don't think Bruce would mind." he tells Jason carefully, always taking the opportunity to remind him that he's not as much of an outsider to the pack as he likes to think he is anymore. "But sure. For how long?"

"Just an hour, then you can get back out to doing your Robin thing if you want to." Relief slides across Jason's shoulders. "The monster will be asleep anyway, so all you'll have to do is sit in the living room, watch TV, and be there to reassure him if he wakes up wanting a glass of water or something."

Honestly Tim wouldn't mind even if Damian was awake the whole time. He may still have the scar on his index finger from when Damian bit him the first time they met, but he's as much Uncle Tim to the kid as Dick is Uncle Duck at this point. He loves Damian, loves spending time with him and his easy acceptance, the way he doesn't ask painful questions or look at Tim like he expects him to shatter apart at any moment.

"What are you wearing?"

"Huh?" Jason looks at him like a deer in headlights and Tim very carefully bites down the urge to openly suggest this is a date. No, he disguises it under far more practical terms, because if he doesn't Jason will run a mile and then Dick will come after _him_.

"You can't just go out onto Gotham rooftops in your civilian clothes, Jason. People swinging around the city get noticed, especially when they're in Nightwing's company."

Jason shrugs, which goes to prove to Tim that he hasn't given this much thought. "I figure I just slap on a domino and I'll get away with it. We're not looking to go beat up bad guys, Tim. it's just, y'know, getting out there again."

Right, like he believes that for a second. It doesn't matter what Dick and Jason set out to do, or the fact that Sunday's are usually quiet nights for criminals, they each have a knack for finding trouble and a moral sense of justice that won't be stopped if they come across any wrongdoing. But Tim refrains from pointing that out.

"All right. We can figure out a proper costume for the next time."

Jason frowns, "Tim, there won't be a next time. This is just a one-off."

"Okay."

" _Tim_ ," Jason stresses the single syllable of his name, giving him a dirty look to boot, "I mean it."

"Sure." They both know that's not true. In fact Tim knows without a doubt that Jason's lying to himself. One night out is a slippery slope back to full-scale crimefighting, anyone who's ever tried to quit the business could tell you that (and Tim includes himself in that group). "Just be sure to let Alfred know what emblem you're planning to use in the future."

Tim's ready for it, but he still doesn't manage to duck the sweep of Jason's arm pulling him into a headlock. He squawks as knuckles drag hard through his hair, ruining the effect of the gel he'd worked into it that morning so that he ends up looking like a dishevelled hedgehog. "Jason!"

"Sorry what? Did you say something?" The omega leans onto him, his greater weight pinning Tim against the couch. 

"Get off, you jerk!"

Jason snickers and despite himself Tim's suddenly irrationally happy, happy that he and Jason are on good terms now, that Jason's treating him like a younger packmate rather than an enemy of his own volition. That something, anything, can pierce through the oppressive weight he feels has taken up permanent lodging in his chest the past few months. 

"Awww," his brother drawls, "Is ickle baby Timmy uncomfortable?"

"Uncomfortable enough to kick your ass." Tim threatens, shoving his elbow harder into his chest.

"As if you ever could." Jason stops ruffling his hair, but keeps Tim pinned underneath him for a moment longer. It lets Tim appreciate the scent of him so close, the contact that full-fledged pack brothers should be able to share between them without qualms.

It's all chemical of course, a calculated biological reaction but that knowledge doesn't change its effectiveness. Tim never had this growing up. His parents, especially his mother, had been so distant, forgoing both traditional methods of parenting and the natural instinct to keep their child close in a way that would be unthinkable to most normal people. It had taken Dick and the Titans to teach Tim what it was to enjoy the casual touches that were meant to come so naturally between friends and family. 

Now there was Jason too, slowly but surely fitting himself into the mould.

And with first Steph, Kon, and now his Dad gone -

Someone clearing their throat in the doorway stops the scenario from going any further. Jason freezes before letting go of him, and together he and Tim look over somewhat sheepishly at where Alfred is stood watching them with Damian peering out from behind his legs. Damian giggles at his mother and uncle, and Tim can only pray that the toddler didn't hear him say 'ass' earlier or Alfred will probably kill them both.

"Ahem." The older beta coughs again pointedly, as if he doesn't already have their full attention, "If you are quite ready, Master Jason, the cookies have finished baking and the young sir has asked for your help in decorating them."

"We made bats!" Damian pipes up helpfully, in case his mother's forgotten and Jason smiles at him, warm and indulgent in the way he never is with anyone else.

"Bats, huh? How can I say no to that." Jason shoves himself up from the couch, edging back round the low table in front of the couch to join them. "Tim, I'll er... let you know more about that thing tomorrow. Unless you want to come help us now?"

Subtle. 

"Sure." Tim agrees, but as much as he appreciates the invitation he shakes his head over joining them down in the kitchen. Instead he rests his chin on his palm, watching the trio disappear down the corridor until he's certain he's completely alone before opening up his laptop again and bringing up Cass' email to write her a message. 

She's going to be so envious when she finds out what she's missing.

 

*

 

"So it's a date."

Roy snickers to himself as he hears Dick choke suddenly on the other end of the line. "Roy, what. It - it is absolutely not a date. We're just going for a run!"

"Sure, the two of you alone, after no one else has been able to so much as get Jason to go to the corner store without taking Damian with him before." Roy doesn't believe Dick for a second, and honestly he couldn't be happier about it. He's been waiting for one of them to get a clue for months now. "Have you told him this is a romantic venture?"

"Roy, it's not a date."

"I'll take that as a no." Further north up the coast from Gotham, Roy's perched up high on an empty balcony in New York City, waiting for his target to appear. He moved here last year with Lian to be closer to the Outsiders, a new superhero team he's running, and now's the perfect time to catch up with old friends who don't visit as often as they should outside of work. "You going to tell him, or..."

He hears Dick groan on his end, which Roy reasons is a negative. 

"God, you're hopeless at this, Dick. No wonder you've been going through a longer dry spell than the Sahara desert. You're always wound up so tight, you really need to -"

" _Roy_." His friend growls, and even if Roy were the type of omega to be cowed by that sound it's rendered completely ineffective by the knowledge that Dick is currently at least a fifty miles away from him. "It is not a date."

Someone save him from the stupidity of uptight best friends. "Right, okay, you've said that three times now. It's not a date. So why are you even telling me about it? I haven't seen you get your panties in a twist over anyone like this since you and Barbara were an item."

On the other end of the line Dick hesitates, but Roy is patient, he's an archer, he knows how to wait someone out. "I... I don't know. You know Jason. Hasn't he mentioned it to you?"

"Nope. Contrary to what you may think, Dick, we omegas don't gossip like old wives over everything."

He can practically hear Dick rolling his eyes at him down the line. "I wasn't suggesting that, I just know he talks to you about things he doesn't to anyone else."

Well, Dick does have a point there. Sometimes it's a real pain in the ass to be the shared best friend between two ridiculously dramatic people. 

"Fair point, but he hasn't said anything about this. Come on, what is it, are you nervous? Got performance anxiety?"

"Shut up. And no. I'm just... I'm kind of worried I may have pressured him into doing it." Dick finally confesses, "He wasn't exactly enthusiastic at first."

"Goodness gracious, you? Pressure someone into doing something? Never!" Roy pulls out a net arrow and sets it to the string, using the scope on his bow to get a closer look at the building he's watching. "How about now? Does it seem like he's looking forward to it?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's already arranged a babysitter for Damian."

For fuck's sake. 

"Then what's the problem? Look Dick, you can be a real _dick_ sometimes, you and I both know that. But Jason occasionally needs a kick up the ass to go for the things he really wants too." It wasn't exactly the kid's fault; life had never been fair to Jason, and the last time he'd gone seeking his own desires he'd almost lost Damian to his other parent. That was a harsh enough experience to teach a healthy dose of caution to anyone, but the unfortunate knock on effect of that event was that Jason was now going too far in the opposite direction and letting himself stagnate because of it, looking away from what was so easily within his reach out of fear of an unspecified disaster.

"Asshole." Dick replies as Roy finally lets the arrow fly, but he can hear the acceptance already in his voice. "I just want to be sure."

"If he really didn't want to he wouldn't have agreed in the first place, or he would have told you to fuck off by now. Kid isn't exactly subtle. You need to trust Jason to know his own mind, Dick." Boom, bullseye as always. Roy slings his bow over his shoulder as he prepares to abseil back down onto the street. "You just got him to face up to the truth that he misses punching criminals in the face, that's all, so get over it and start thinking about the important things."

He's going to have to sign off the comm to go interrogate the perp, and it's his friendly duty to make sure he gets a good final parting shot in.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Roy smirks as he slides down the rope. "When Jason walks away which do you stare at more, his ass or his thighs?"

He's howling as Dick cuts the connection instead of answering, actually having to bend over double for a moment on the street before he moves towards his struggling captive. The guy probably thinks Arsenal is crazy, but what the hell, he can always use a little more crazy in his rep. Crazy makes criminals think extra hard before stirring up trouble in your city.

The moment isn't helped by the fact that as Roy reaches the perp there's a smell in the air that makes his manic grin spread even wider. It's hot and metallic, like a soldering iron in action, and when he looks up, breathing out at the heady sight of the golden alien warrior descending from the sky like a radiant goddess, he feels like the night is perfect.

"Hey, princess."

So maybe he has his own secrets too, but they can wait until after Dick's happily in a relationship of his own and less likely to kick his ass. Then he'll tell him about Kori, honest.

 

*

 

Down in the Bat Cave, Bruce stares in surprise at the plate of bat-shaped cookies left by the side of the computer. Each one is lovingly smothered in black and orange icing by the sticky hands of an overeager three-year old, and no doubt their shape is thanks to Alfred's particular brand of humour. 

It's cute and makes Bruce smile, right when he needs it. So much so that he almost dismisses the fact that he hadn't known Jason was coming up to the manor with Damian today as he bites down into a gingerbread cookie, too exhausted to even begin to think of seeking anything more nutritious to eat. 

Almost, but not quite. Because it still strikes him as strange when normally Jason is incredibly particular about making sure that Bruce spends time with Damian every time they visit, citing that if Bruce is so determined to have them around then he needs to make sure he's putting in the effort to know his grandson. Yet when he looks there's not so much as a text message registered on any of his lines of communication.

Suspicious, maybe. Or most likely it's just Bruce's overtired mind playing tricks on him. He only just got back from a twelve-hour hunt for Killer Croc through the sewers, and that - followed by an hour of showering to get the stink off his skin - is enough to drive anyone to have strange thoughts in the middle of the night.

It gives him a moments pause as he considers it, but Bruce swiftly pushes the thought out of sight and out of mind, because all that does matter now is that he's grateful for this gift. A small reminder of how far he and Jason have come together.

Bruce picks up the plate to take with him upstairs, filing away the strange detail of this missed opportunity to spend time with his son and grandchild for later. The only thing he wants to do for the rest of the night is finish off this plate of cookies and collapse into bed for at least three hours of sleep before he has to get up and do it all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing much to say here except that Roy Harper is a national treasure. Tune in next time for Jason and Dick's not-a-date!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I said I'd pace myself with updating this story, but honestly the last chapter was a shorter one and I'm pretty excited to post this part up. So here it goes.
> 
> As a note, Gotham geography is hard to work out even though there are maps and wikis out there, so the layout here is a mixture of those and what is presented in the Arkham games, as well as my own improvisation.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Time passes at both a crawl and a rush. 

One moment it seems like Jason is facing down the weekend, then the next he's waking up on Sunday morning with the realisation that he's about to go back on the streets for the first time since he brought Damian home from the League of Assassins. A fact Jason can't shake loose from his mind at any point during the day no matter how hard he tries. 

He moves through the day on automatic pilot, hardly paying any real attention to what it is he's doing, and by late afternoon even Damian is staring at him suspiciously. Jason tries not to pay attention to that, figuring that if he doesn't openly acknowledge it then neither will his son, but that's a fool's hope. He's still tripping up even as he takes Damian through his bedtime routine: which always starts with a bath and ends with reading whatever book is his favourite on that particular night.

This week it's been the _The Gruffalo_ , a rather sweet and charming story about a mouse taking a walk through the woods. By now Jason could recite each word by heart, and if it weren't for the fact that Damian liked to look at the pictures he wouldn't need the book at all. 

Yet tonight, despite knowing the story back to front already, Jason finds himself starting to fumble words and lose track of where he is on the page. At first Damian is patient enough with him that he simply corrects Jason when he messes up, but eventually he gets so irritated that he starts pulling on the bed covers, twisting them up around him before slamming his fist down on the mattress in a way that makes Jason jump. 

"Mommy!" His son whines, "You're doing it wrong!"

_Shit._

"Sorry, little man." Jason apologises quickly, shame hitting him hard once he realises how red Damian's face has gotten. When he puffs up his cheeks like that he almost looks like a little tomato, and it would be cute if it wasn't for the fact that it's also one of the first signs of an impending tantrum. "I'll do it right this time, I promise." 

There's something wrong with him. There has to be if the simple act of leaving the apartment on one run out with Dick is affecting his ability to parent his own child this much. Normal parents didn't get like this, and maybe if Jason can't control himself he shouldn't be leaving the apartment at all.

That thought sobers him up, because Damian comes first, always.

Determined to make it up to him (and head the tantrum off at the pass), Jason thumbs back a few pages in the book, ready to start over, but a small hand grabs his sleeve before he can begin. Damian is frowning up at Jason from where he has his face half-buried in the pillows, wearing a look that's far too astute and piercing for one who's only three years of age. 

It's a look that makes him resemble Talia far more closely than Jason's strictly comfortable with.

"What's wrong, mommy?"

"Nothing's wrong, Damian."

Damian growls at him. "There is. You're been weird."

"Being." Jason corrects absently, before reaching up to rub his thumb against the bridge of his nose. He hates to lie to him, but there's no way he can tell Damian about the actual reason he's nervous tonight. He'd never go to sleep if he did, not even if Jason disguised it as going out for a simple walk rather than what it actually is. "Mommy's just tired, okay?"

He sets the book down and leans over, wrapping his arms around Damian as he kisses the top of his head. Damian sniffles and pushes at him, letting out a tiny grumbling noise at the treatment, but experience tells Jason that it's more an indicator of how tired and frustrated Damian is over his routine being disrupted than it is a rejection of his affection. 

"Mommy should go bed soon." Damian tells Jason, fisting a hand into his shirt. "Sleep and get better."

"I will." Jason lies again guiltily, hating himself a little more each time. "Can I still read you your bedtime story first?"

"Gotta do it right this time." 

Jason smiles as Damian yawns. They're all lucky Damian isn't actually being raised as a prince the way his sire wanted; he's turned out to be demanding enough as it is.

"I will." He promises, this time without lying.

They read through the story again without anymore hitches. The little brown mouse spins his tall tale that turns out to be a tall reality, but still comes out ahead of the scary beast he conjured by merit of his own wit. It's finally enough to put Damian to sleep, where he's presumably dreaming of the deep dark wood and all its inhabitants, and Jason spends over a minute running his fingers through his spiky hair before tenderly tucking his son in with his stuffed animals.

Three hours till party time.

For a while Jason reads one of his own books, losing himself in a world of gothic Victoriana before doing some warm-up stretches and going to the secure lock-box he keeps on the top shelf in his closet to fish out his oldest leather jacket; the one he wore to be Red Hood before giving up the life to be a mother. Jason touches the marks of wear and tear reverently, traces the line of stitches where Deathstroke stabbed him through the shoulder before slipping it on. It feels a little looser about the shoulders than he remembers.

It's not surprising that even a good workout routine hasn't been enough to stop him from dropping some muscle, and Jason can't help but feel that civilian life has in some ways made him soft, complacent, and he can only hope that the damage hasn't been done deeply enough that he's forgotten how to fly.

Next he applies the wafer thin neutraliser patches he'd 'borrowed' from the cave last week to his neck, then checks his small weapons supply three times over, just in case. 

It had been no surprise to him to find that Bruce's upgraded scent concealing tech is now decades ahead of anything sold by street-level drug stores. Jason's not exactly sure how the patches work, but as he'd had it explained to him by Alfred once over afternoon tea, they actually transform pheromones on a molecular level rather than just covering them up. Each wafer is so delicately thin that they're almost invisible against his skin, and unlike the sprays they used in the old days these can't be washed off by water. That's definitely a level up in Jason's book.

Maybe if he'd had them before Talia would never have noticed his pregnancy; then he might have been able to get away scot-free long before he had to go crawling to Bruce for help. A sobering thought, and not one Jason considers idly.

A knock on the front door startles him out of his reverie.

It's Tim, has to be, and Jason hastens to let the teenager inside, well aware of how the clock's ticking forwards on time. Dick's supposed to be meeting him on the roof of the opposite building in ten minutes.

"About time you got here." Jason grunts, re-securing the door the moment Tim's inside.

Tim rolls his eyes at him. "Hello to you too. How's Damian?"

"Out like a light. He's a sound sleeper, so you shouldn't have any trouble. But if you do you call me immediately, got it?"

"I got it, Jay." Tim says reassuringly. "We'll be fine. I can handle a toddler."

"Yeah well... you say that..." Jason shrugs awkwardly, trying not to think of all the things that could go wrong as Tim swings his bag down off his shoulder and deposits it on the couch. He frowns as the teenager starts to rifles through it, then blinks in surprise as Tim pulls out a brand new grapple gun and hands it over to Jason. 

"Can't have you going out there using outdated tech. I know you didn't think to swipe one of these when you did the patches." Tim explains, shrugging as if it's no big deal. "Did you get the popcorn?"

"Damn, and here I didn't get you anything." He weighs the grapple in his hands, it feels good. Lighter than his old model. "Well, except for the popcorn. It's in the cupboard, next to the nasty-ass coffee that you left here last time."

"I wouldn't have to use the instant stuff if you'd get a proper coffee maker in here." Tim complains as he drops down onto the couch beside his backpack. Inside the open flap Jason can make out the colours of the Robin costume, which goes to prove that Tim is planning on going out for his own patrol as soon as Jason gets back.

Jason resolves to use that as an excuse against letting Dick keep him out too long tonight.

He puts on the domino mask next, because even though he hadn't initially planned on going straight out the window Jason finds himself heading in that direction anyway. It stands to reason that his skills will be rusty, that it would be far more sensible to go downstairs first and start on an easier level than a ten-storey drop, but as soon as the sturdy plastic moulds to his face Jason feels like a switch has been thrown somewhere inside him.

Getting back up, Tim follows at his heels, ready to re-arm the security as soon as Jason's clear. "I thought you said you weren't looking forward to this?"

"What can I say, baby bird?" All his anxiety about going for a run, about leaving Damian behind in his den with only Tim to protect him has suddenly turned to excitement. His stomach already feels like it's doing flips in anticipation of defying gravity. "You never forget what it's like to fly."

Jason takes a breath as he steps out onto the thin ledge that encircles the building just underneath his window. In front of him is a towering billboard advertisement for Jack Ryder's latest show, and it's at this that he aims his grapple, letting his mind calculate weight, distance and wind effect as easy as first grade math. It's so simple then to throw himself out into the open air, firing off the line at the exact moment he starts to drop.

The grapple connects perfectly, and the swing forwards has just enough give to stop him from yanking his arms out of their sockets. Instinct takes over as Jason anticipates the rise of the rooftop in front of him. He doesn't even have to think as he times the release and flips forward, letting his momentum carry him the rest of the way to land with a roll and a bracing thud.

"Oh fuck." He gasps, alight with the echo of the wind against his face as he talks to himself. "I forgot how good that feels."

Maybe he actually will talk to Bruce about letting him start to patrol again soon, after all, if only part-time. 

A low appreciative whistle cuts off that thought before it can even really begin, and Jason isn't surprised to see the blue and black form of Nightwing emerge out of the shadows in front of him a moment after the sound fades. "Not bad, little wing. I might not have to give you remedial flying lessons after all."

He's grinning and Jason has to fight not to match it, folding his arms instead to hide his giddiness. "Asshole. Where are we going?"

"Not far. We'll loop around the neighbourhood, maybe grab something to eat and then head back. Sound good?"

Jason glances back at his apartment building. Tim's already shut and locked the window. He's fine, Damian's asleep, and Tim will call him instantly if anything happens. It's all good.

"Sure." He nods in agreement. "Let's go."

 

*

 

Dick takes the lead. He can hear Jason running behind him, the breathless sound of his laughter when they make a particularly daring leap, and knows instantly in his heart that this was the right thing to do. 

Regardless of what Roy had tried to make out of Dick's underlying intentions, Jason needs this.

He's careful to steer them away from any place that's likely to play host to a crime in progress, because as much as it goes against his instincts that's not what this run is about. Dick can go looking for bad guys later, after Jason's back at home and they're not likely to get ripped into by Bruce should something go wrong. Instead he aims for the most interesting route he can possibly think of: the one with the best jumps, the best sights.

It is absolutely not a date.

 _You offered to grab food with him after, Grayson,_ some traitorous voice inside of him points out, sounding a lot like Roy. _That's kind of a date thing._

He shoves it viciously down.

Jason lives in Old Gotham, in the very heart of the city. Because back when he'd first started looking for a place to live outside of Wayne manor he'd point blank refused to let Bruce set him up in one of the wealthier districts, and the East End and Crime Alley (where Jason would no doubt have felt most comfortable) was completely out of the question with Damian around. In light of that disagreement living in this district had been the best compromise between the two.

Here he's situated close to Barbara's clock tower, as well as the GCPD headquarters; which pacified Bruce's concerns over Jason and Damian's general safety alongside the Waynetech security measures that he'd had installed in the apartment against more specific threats. Thanks to Bruce, Jason's home could probably stand up to a small air-strike, never mind an attempted break-in by ninjas armed with swords and throwing stars.

(Saying that having Jason back with a young child of his own had set Bruce's protective alpha instincts into overdrive would be putting it mildly.) 

But the truth is that every Bat loves this part of the city, and for good reason: it has the best architecture out of any neighbourhood for climbing on. The fact that so much of it had been salvageable after the earthquake a few years back had been a blessing amidst tragedy. 

If Dick didn't know better he'd say that the architects, the builders who'd originally sunk the first stones of Gotham into the earth centuries ago, had anticipated that one day men and women would use their work to traverse the city above the roads and built accordingly. The needlessly decorative whorls and ledges set into the stonework, as well as the protective gargoyles who'd watched over the people here long before Bats and Birds ever took to the sky, offer frequent handholds and grappling points to the enterprising vigilante, and for them it's about as close to taking a leisurely stroll around the park as they can comparatively take.

With all that in mind Dick aims for the Cathedral first. It stands tall and robust even amongst the attempts of more modern buildings to dwarf it in size, and Dick laughs as he catapults onto the steep roof, turning to check that Jason makes the leap safely after him. He has a game in mind to make the night even more enjoyable than it already promises to be.

"Having fun, Jay?"

Jason bends over a bit, looking a little winded but otherwise okay. It's to be expected after being benched for so long, but he's keeping up better than Dick had initially imagined he would. Which is good, because if Jason suspects he's taking it easy on him at any point this trip will go south fast.

"Yeah, I..." He watches Jason as he trails off, looking up at the city around them. Up this high you can hardly see the filth on the streets below, just the endless glittering lights that make Gotham look like a jewel in the darkness. "I guess I really did miss it. Seeing the city this way."

"It never gets old." Dick agrees, putting his hands on his hips as he surveys their domain. "I love Bludhaven, but it just doesn't have the same sights as Gotham, you know? This city is..." He trails off as he tries to think of the word to describe it.

"Alive." Jason fills in for him in quieter tones, "It's alive." He draws abreast of Dick, following his gaze. "The old bitch has personality. Likes to look good even as she eats you up."

The words remind Dick suddenly of how Jason was born and bred in Gotham, whereas he had only become one of her adopted sons by cruel intentions at the tender age of nine. And unlike Bruce and Tim who'd been born to the cleaner outer climes of the city, Jason had been made right in her core. A street kid with a heart of gold.

The thought softens Dick's resolve for a moment, and he almost reaches for Jason's hand before catching himself. "That's kind of dark, Jay."

"That's Gotham."

Dick shakes his head for a moment, before deciding to change the subject. Things are taking a more melancholy turn than he wants for tonight. They can save the philosophic conversations about the soul of the city for later. "You ever play rooftop tag?"

"Rooftop what?"

"Tag, like regular tag, but on rooftops. You up for it?"

He deliberately phrases it as a challenge, knowing that there's no way Jason Peter Todd would ever back down from one. Predictably his little wing immediately smirks and nods as he cracks his knuckles in a way that's just a little threatening. "Oh yeah, Dickiebird, I'm up for it."

"Great!" The look of shock on Jason's face when Dick immediately darts forwards and shoves his hand against his chest is fantastic. "Then tag, you're it!"

Dick doesn't wait to watch his reaction, though he does hear Jason's outraged shout behind him as he darts further up the Cathedral roof to climb the bell tower. It's always funny when they expect him to play fair.

In his long career as Robin, then Nightwing, Dick's been up to the top of the Cathedral more times than he can count. Enough times that he could make the climb blindfolded if he wanted to, so he's not worried about keeping his lead. In fact he's so confident that he even chances a glance down now and then to check on Jason's progress.

"Keep up, Jay!" Dick laughs over his shoulder as he reaches the top of the spire first to the sound of more swearing. Jason's managed to close the gap between them to a mere three feet, and Dick indulgently waits for the outstretched grasp of a hand reaching for his ankle before firing off a line to escape.

He's competitive by nature, there's no doubt about that.

Still, despite that facet of his personality, Dick quickly realises that there's a part of him that _wants_ Jason to catch him. That longs to be the one doing the chasing rather than being the chasee. He shakes his head and puts it down to dumb instinct, to the knowledge that under the cover of the scent patches his body knows Jason's an omega and that - no, he does not want that.

Pushing the thought out of his head, Dick grits his teeth and focuses on running.

They leave the Cathedral behind at a pace that would be frightening to any observers, thudding over rooftops and rebounding off walls. In mid-air Dick is graceful and alive in a way he can never match on the ground, and though Jason's slower, heavier, he's almost as skilled. He also has more strength than Dick does, which more or less balances them out.

Between them they toss taunts and insults, playfully egging each other on as they move helter skelter through Gotham's dizzying heights. Jason laughs when they accidentally knock a neon sign sideways, and he almost catches Dick when he stops to admire the large inflatable Jack-O' lantern stuck to the roof of a costume shop.

It's not until they pass City Hall, Dick still untagged, that things go wrong.

Dick checks behind himself to see where Jason is at and stops suddenly short. He's not there, and Dick realises that in his hell for leather charge to keep his lead that he may not have been there for some time.

Hurriedly he backtracks, trying to ignore the sudden stab of apprehension that punches him in the stomach. But the feeling returns threefold when the sound of angry shouts two alleys over catch Dick's attention. _Oh no._

If that's what he thinks it is, and Jason gets hurt, Bruce is going to murder him.

Quick as a cat Dick prowls towards the sounds, sliding over to the edge of the nearby minimart and peering down into the back area where they keep their dumpsters. There's one old guy down there, a beggar by the looks of it who's been cornered by a group of jeering teenagers, and last but not least, _Jason_.

"Shit."

Broken bottles litter the ground from where the kids have been throwing them at the homeless guy, and Jason has a look of righteous fury on his face as he stalks forward. His height and breadth helps intimidate the youths, as does the mask (every street punk in Gotham knows that a mask spells trouble) but the lack of emblem on his chest doesn't give them the push they need to recognise just how dangerous he is and break off. Dick can tell instantly that they're going to try and fight him.

Five drunk teens shouldn't be a match for Jason, _shouldn't_ , but it's been a long time and -

Dick doesn't know where the growl comes from in his chest, fierce and protective, but he's moving before he even registers that the sound came from _him_. He lands down in the middle of the group, escrima sticks out, just as Jason spits something at the steroid-ripped alpha leader and throws the first punch.

"Back off now!" He roars at the kids. Only one of them, a beta girl who can't be more than fifteen, is sober enough to recognise Nightwing and take off running while the rest of the pack closes ranks around them.

Well, if that's the way they want it.

Dick knocks aside the baseball bat that's swung at him with ease, jabbing the other escrima stick into the ample gut of the kid who came at him first. Winded the kid bends over, then falls back in pain as Dick presses the shock controls just long enough to give him a paralysing sting. It's not enough to seriously hurt him, but he won't be getting up anytime soon either.

Another girl, an alpha who obviously considers herself tough shit, lunges for him next, missing by a mile as Nightwing smoothly anticipates her attack and steps out of the way. She careens into the dumpster and with a smirk Dick helps her along, kicking her backside so she topples into the mess of rotten garbage. 

Normally he'd make a quip here, something about dumpster diving, but he's too angry for that.

There should still be another besides the leader Dick saw Jason take on first. He looks and is unsurprised to see the big alpha male groaning on the floor as Jay twists his arm back, expression viciously satisfied as the bone of his shoulder pops out of its joint.

The last kid though, he has a knife in his hand as he tries to sneak up on Jason and Dick grips his escrima tighter, lifting his arm to throw only for Jason to beat him to the punch. Literally. In fact Jason doesn't even have to look behind him before turning and decking the guy across the face with one hand while wrenching the knife away from him with the other. Dick feels an odd burst of pride mix in with his fury as Jason seizes the kid by his hair, yanking his head down at the same time as he brings up his knee, knocking the last threat out of the fight for good.

All in all, the whole thing took maybe thirty seconds.

Dick puts his escrima back in their holster and stalks towards Jason, shaking slightly from adrenaline and hot anger. The homeless guy vanished in the confusion, not unusual, but there's still the chance they could be overheard and Dick just barely remembers to use codenames as he opens his mouth to demand an explanation. "Hood -!"

"I had it, Nightwing!" Jason snaps at him defensively, white teeth clicking together in a way that sparks off something primal in Dick's brain. He slips the kid's knife away into one of the many pockets hidden in his jacket. "I didn't need your help."

"You weren't supposed to have it!" Dick points out, glowering in return, "We were supposed to be avoiding trouble, not diving into it!"

"You want me to stay out of seeing five assholes kick an old man into the ground?!"

"Yes! I mean - no! I mean..." He's fumbling, thrown off by the dizzying power of what he's feeling, the overwhelming mixture of emotions. "I mean you should have told me instead of running off to handle it by yourself." Dicks grasps Jason's arms by his elbows, "What if you'd gotten hurt?"

"I can fuckin' handle a gang of teenage morons. Just because I'm out of practice doesn't mean I'm helpless, y'know." Jason's street accent, maybe invoked by their surroundings, deepens, twisting his vowels. He's tense under Dick's hands. "Get out of my face."

" _No_." It comes out like a growl as he tightens his grip, and Dick see's Jason's lips part slightly in shock. "Damn it, Hood, if something had happened to you I... well I..."

"You what?" Jason's staring at him suspiciously, mouth now pressed back into a thin hard line whenever he's not talking. There's a wariness about the way he holds himself that punches Dick right in the gut.

He needs to calm down.

"I wouldn't forgive myself." Dick answers more quietly, aware of the teens still on the ground around them. 

"I don't need you to protect me, Nightwing."

"I know." His heart is in his mouth as he says, "But I want to anyway."

Jason swallows, then bites his lip, and Dick wishes so badly that he could see his eyes or read his scent. That he could get some better feeling of what Jason's feeling underneath his defensive, closed-off posture.

"You're not my alpha." The omega says finally, right before his hands impact hard against Dick's chest. 

Dick stumbles back in surprise, caught completely off-guard at the sudden attack. When he looks up Jason is looking at him in a way that's strangely thoughtful, but before Dick can puzzle out what it's about the omega raises his chin in a gesture that can only be read as a challenge. Dick squeezes his fingers into fists tight enough that the material his gauntlets are made of creaks in protest. "Jay..."

"Fuck you, asshole."

Jason runs.

With a jolt Dick realises that their game is still on. Jason just tagged him, and Dick fervently hopes that he's not misreading the signal he thinks he was given as he takes off in pursuit. 

_Come get me._

Surprise earns Jason a few seconds lead, but now Dick's finally giving into the quiet underlying instinct to chase that has pulsed through him the whole night. His heart pounds in his chest as he catapults himself forwards into the pursuit, legs eating up the distance between them. His nostrils flare, trying to catch a scent that doesn't exist and everything in him demands that he not let Jason get away.

It's ridiculous, base, but at the same time Dick can't stop himself from thinking it. He _needs_ to catch him.

What he'll do after that is anyone's guess.

A Robin's natural instinct is to escape through altitude and Jason doesn't disappoint. With each passing second he takes them up higher and higher, harpooning the grapple from vantage point to vantage point, and Dick can't suppress a frustrated snarl as the narrow perches Jason chooses make it all the more difficult for him to try and tag the omega without knocking them both into a multi-storey fall.

If he can just get ahead of Jason and turn him around...

Dick starts trying to anticipate Jason's next move rather than just run at his heels, and his chance finally comes when the other vigilante vaults off the corner of a building and onto a gargoyle, hauling himself upwards by his hands before turning to look for his next grapple point. By that time Dick's already there, having performed a spectacular series of flips to land in just the right place to block the way with his body. 

At once Jason tries to reverse his momentum and head in the other direction, but he's too slow. Nighwing lunges, taking the opportunity to recklessly barrel into him and send them both skidding back onto the ledge.

The stone overhang above hides them from prying eyes as Jason tries to flip them over, but Dick is determined and knows more than a few tricks to prevent that from happening. A combination of strength and flexibility means that their wrestling ends with Jason's wrists in Dick's hands as he straddles his waist, faces bent so close together that their mouths are only inches apart.

"Dick -"

Dick kisses him. 

Jason's lips are soft and cold against his own, and the resulting flare of lust he feels is tempered by a feeling of _shit_ when Jason doesn't immediately kiss back. It takes effort but Dick fights himself and his instincts to pull away, ready to babble an apology for his faux pas. 

"Jay, I -I'm sorry. I didn't meant to, I -"

"Asshole." Jason says breathlessly. He looks astonished, chest heaving from the exertion before he lets out a sigh and kisses Dick in turn.

Every synapse in Dick's brain seems to fire at once. He lets go of Jason's wrists to cup his face between his hands as he returns the kiss, feeling another growl building in his chest while underneath him Jason shudders at the sound.

"Jay." Dick rumbles as he licks his tongue across Jason's lips. "Jay." 

Jason makes a soft noise, not quite a whine as he opens his mouth to the unspoken demand, but he doesn't back down or yield the way the omegas are supposed to. Instead Jason _fights_ , the same way he does with everything, making even kissing a challenge as he responds with the same kind of aggression that Dick feels. Dick finds it more arousing than he ever would have thought possible to feel teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Then again, look at his dating history: Kori bled alpha even though she was an alien, and Barbara... just, _Barbara_.

Pushing down, Dick tries to use his bodyweight alone to keep the larger omega pinned under him, tangling and weaving his fingers into Jason's thick hair. A moment later Jason's hands clamp onto his shoulders through the suit, then drag down his back in a way that makes Dick wish he was wearing something else. Or nothing else. 

It's hard to think clearly with the way Jason is squirming under him.

Compelled by instinct Dick tries to keep control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue into Jason's mouth only to have Jason push back as their bodies roll and slip across the ledge, dangerously close to the edge. Strong thighs bracket his hips and Dick can feel himself getting hard already. He hisses as his cock comes into conflict with the confining protection of the cup he wears beneath the suit.

"Jay." Dick manages to say, mouth pulling away from Jason's with a wet pop. 

It's difficult for him to articulate with words what he wants to do when it feels like body language and scent should be enough. He knows he shouldn't push too hard for so many reasons, not like this and not out here, but still he - "I want..."

His mouth trails down over Jason's jaw line to his neck, where he lets his teeth graze against skin in the suggestion of a bite while his fingers go to the fastening of Jason's jeans. The way Jason tenses just at the suggestion of him taking them off forces clarity into his words. "I want..." Dick continues to whisper, his voice low and husky, deepened by the rush of hormones through his veins. "Can I? I just want to touch you, nothing else. Want to make you feel good."

He doesn't dare suggest more. Dick may have to fight with his whole being for every clear thought, but he's cognisant enough to know that pressing Jason too far here will be something they'll both regret once the moment is over. Whatever this is, it's exciting and new, and if he loses Jason before they even start because of his own inability to control his base instincts Dick will never forgive himself.

Beneath him Jason is gaping, and Dick wants so badly to rip the mask off his face so he can see his eyes clearly; wants to peel the neutraliser patches off his neck so he can put his nose to Jason's scent glands and just _inhale_. 

"Dick, you..."

"You can say no, little wing." Dick assures him, licks over his neck, tasting sweat and cool Gotham air. "It's okay, just tell me what you want."

He feels Jason swallow, the convulsion of his neck muscles as he thinks it over. Finally he shakes his head, and even though Dick feels a sudden hot stab of disappointment at the motion he instantly pulls his hands away from Jason's jeans.

"Okay." He murmurs against his throat, "That's okay. Can I keep kissing you instead?"

This time Jason nods and Dick sighs in relief as he moves back, pulling them both to sit up. Jason doesn't resist when Dick drags him halfway into his lap so he can press their mouths together again. He's still hard under the suit but that's all right, it'll go away soon enough with the knowledge that there's no chance of proceeding past this point.

That is, once they stop making out.

"Thought about this for so long." Dick starts to talk, because he literally can't stop himself. Even between kisses. His hand squeezes Jason's thigh just below his ass. "Kissing you."

"Then why didn't you?" Jason swallows, chasing his mouth. The cold has vanished and the slick, hot slide of their tongues together makes Dick shiver for other reasons. "Why the fuck not, Dick."

"I was worried you wouldn't want me to. Didn't want to make things uncomfortable between us."

Jason laughs unexpectedly, it's a little more high-pitched than his normal rough bark. He shakes his head slowly. "You seriously didn't - God, you're so lucky you're pretty."

"What?" Dick blinks, because that feels like a very back-handed compliment, but Jason kisses him again instead of replying. The way he touches their mouths together this time is softer, almost reverential, like he can't quite believe this is happening and expects at any moment for it to end. That alone stops Dick from asking anymore questions in favour of convincing him otherwise through kisses.

They make out for another five minutes, or maybe it's ten: exchanging soft, deep kisses and gentle caresses above the waist before Jason finally pulls back, shivering at the chill wind that's blowing down from the north of Gotham. Dick tries to chase his mouth again, but Jason puts his hand up between them, stopping him instantly. "Jay?"

"We need to go back." Jason's lips are deliciously reddened, and Dick feels irrationally proud of himself for making them that way. "We're late."

"Late?"

Jason nods his head to something behind Dick, and when he turns his head to look he can see the illuminated face of Oracle's clock tower a few blocks away. Both hands are pointed at twelve. "Shit."

Between the fight and this Dick has completely lost track of time.

"Uh huh." Jason runs his hand over his face, rubbing his tender mouth as he blushes. "Tim's going to be wondering where we are. Any later and he might call in the cavalry."

"I don't think he'll mind if we call in that we'll be late."

"That's not the point."

He lets go reluctantly as Jason stands up, watching him try to straighten his clothes and tame his hair even though it's a losing battle. They still have a twenty-minute run ahead of them to get back to Jason's apartment. "I know. Let's get you home."

The return trip goes a lot more smoothly, and Dick isn't surprised when Jason doesn't ask him to come inside. They say goodbye on the opposite building instead.

"Hey." Dick takes Jason's hand in his before he can leap away, which he tries to do almost immediately. "Can I come over tomorrow evening?" At Jason's questioning look he explains himself. "We need talk about this. About us."

The blush steals over Jason's face again. "You're serious, huh?"

"Totally."

"You know I'm not a redhead, right?"

Dick laughs softly at the lame joke as Jason awkwardly rubs at the bridge of his nose with his thumb, but he doesn't pull his hand immediately away. "I know, Jay."

"Okay. Just... after seven, alright? Unless you want to help put Damian to bed."

"I'll think about it." Dick smiles and, unable to help himself, he moves in to try and give him one last kiss goodnight, only for Jason to lean away and shake his head. It hurts, but Dick tells himself not to read too much into it, reasoning that Jason doesn't want to risk Tim seeing them from across the street rather than it being a personal rejection. Being denied one kiss doesn't take away from all the ones they shared earlier.

Dick squeezes Jason's hand in hopes of communicating that he's not offended. 

"See you later, little wing."

"Yeah."

Dick waits until Jason's disappeared inside the apartment, his frazzled alpha instincts demanding that he makes sure the omega is safely in his den before turning to go. Ordinarily he'd wait for Tim, but Dick is also worried about facing his baby brother's formidable powers of perception under the circumstances. It's not like him to feel so self-conscious, yet tonight Dick has his reasons.

Jason's not the only one who needs to know where he stands before letting others in on the secret.

 

*

 

Tim raises his head from the arm of the chair when Jason climbs back in through the window. He wasn't dozing exactly, but he was close to it. It's hard to sleep in the manor still, yet here in Jason's apartment the temptation is huge.

"Fun night?" He asks innocently as he tries to shake the lethargy from his limbs, reluctantly thinking of the city waiting for him outside.

He's not fooling Jason one bit on either account.

"Sure." Forcibly casual, Jason stalks over and pushes Tim back down by his shoulder before he can get up. "Go to sleep, baby bird."

"I can't, I have to -"

"Dick's out there Nightwing'ing, and we all know Bruce never takes a night off." Jason starts to peel off his domino as he talks, wincing slightly because he's not using the spray to break down the adhesive first. Once it's gone and shoved into a pocket he reaches for the neutraliser patches on his neck. "You didn't get those bruises under your eyes from being double-punched, Robin."

Whatever this is, it's freaking Tim out slightly. Jason's never offered to let him stay the night before. 

He doesn't think he's ever heard him call him Robin to his face either without meaning it as an insult.

"You really did have a good time, didn't you?" He asks softly.

Jason stops. Tim can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek as he figures out how to respond to the question. His lips are red, in a way that the cold air outside can't entirely be blamed for.

Predictably the answer comes as a threat, and Tim is inwardly relieved because that's more like the Jason he knows. "One more word, kid, and I'll throw you out the damn building myself."

Tim raises his hands in apology, fighting a grin, and catches the blanket from the back of the sofa when Jason throws it at him. He curls back up in the chair as Jason stalks out of the room, even though it would probably be more comfortable to move over to the couch, and soon enough Tim hears the shower start up down the hallway.

Something definitely happened, and whatever it is he's going to pry it out of Dick tomorrow. That's for sure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to mention with this chapter: Some brief discussion of a dub/non-con sexual situation occurs.
> 
> Also, the explicit rating on this story finally comes into play.

Letting Tim stay the night turns out to be a blessing in disguise.

It had taken two hours for Jason to fall asleep after coming home in the early hours of the morning, wound up as he was by what had transpired that night on his and Dick's unofficial patrol. Two hours of fretting, pacing and then eventual burrowing into his covers, driven by a need to be held and constrained by _something_ ; if not the gorgeous and above all _interested_ alpha that he had turned away.

His own fault, but not a choice he regrets.

Even now, waking up in the mundane reality of his own bed hours later than he normally would with the weak autumnal sunshine peeking round the curtains, Jason struggles to feel level-headed about what had happened. At least the daylight makes it seem less real, more like one of the fantasies he used to get himself through his heats back when he was a kid - and God help him Jason needs that distance, because he hates how one sudden, impulsive encounter is enough to make him feel like the awkward fifteen year-old with a desperate crush he had been all over again.

Did Dick really kiss him yesterday, he wonders. Did Dick really mean it when he said he'd wanted to do so for a long time? Had the attraction between them actually been real, and not just the result of them both needing a temporary outlet for the left-over adrenaline from the fight?

All legitimate questions, and Jason swallows when he remembers Dick's promise to come by in the evening so they could talk about what had happened. Whatever _it_ was. And despite the warm clench the memory gives him in his chest, there's still doubt to go alongside it; the traitorous ticking of his brain working to the belief that by the time Dick rolls up to the door, he'll have had an epiphany and realised what a mistake he's making in wanting Jason.

"Don't do it." Jason mutters to himself and the empty room, "Don't fucking do it."

It hadn't taken long for his therapist, the JLA endorsed one Bruce insisted Jason see way back when he first came home as part of his Bat-parole agreement, to point out that he had an alarming proclivity for self-sabotage when it came to believing anything good could personally happen to him. Something - wired deep into Jason's appalling lack of self-worth that had originated in childhood - told him that happiness was something that happened only to other people, not him, and by that reasoning anything good that came his way must be either a lie or fleeting in nature. It was a belief that had only been worsened by his death and everything that had followed after.

He's tried working on it with her help. And progress had been made as Jason is more or less comfortable with the idea of his life as it is _now_. With freedom, a home, and Damian (even if he still remains notably worried over his safety). But beyond that? The idea that he can possibly have more is daunting.

Jason thinks about that for a while, turning thoughts over and over in his head before forcing himself to give up. Lying here considering all the things that can go wrong from this moment forth isn't going to help anyone, least of all himself.

He peels himself up from the bed and out of the tight bundle of blankets he'd woven himself into, before running his fingers through his hair and heading for the living room. The mild panic attack Jason's been fighting since realising what time it is eases as soon as he hears Tim and Damian talking. 

Damian's fine, he can relax, and there's a whole lot of hours still left between now and when Dick arrives.

"Morning, Jay." Tim spots him first, lifting a hand and waving from his spot on the floor. A quick glance tells Jason that he and Damian are working on a jigsaw together. Pieces are scattered over the carpet, some probably under the couch, and Jason doesn't doubt Damian will pitch a fit if they can't find them all later. 

He's inherited his mother's possessiveness over his belongings, though unfortunately not yet Jason's compulsive need for a clean organised space to keep them in.

"Morning." Jason replies, readying himself as Damian's head snaps up and round.

His son bounces to his feet, but is surprisingly careful not to step on the half-assembled jigsaw as he bolts across the floor to latch onto Jason's legs. "Mommy, you're awake!"

"Looks that way, huh?" He reaches down, cupping the back of Damian's head as he rubs his face against Jason's sweatpants. "Have you been having a nice time with Tim?"

"We're doing a ji'saw."

Tim leans back on his hands. He still has dark circles under his eyes, but they don't look as deep as they did last night. "Damian said it was okay to let you sleep in because you were being 'funny' yesterday."

Note to self, three year old's have no discretion.

"Well thanks for that, Dami." Jason very carefully does _not_ grit his teeth. "Did you eat breakfast yet?"

"Porridge." Damian tugs at his sweats, so Jason obligingly picks him up. "Mommy, you want porridge?"

"I'd love some porridge. Do you think we have any left?"

Damian laughs like Jason just said something ridiculous, comparable to there being cheese on the moon. "You're silly. There's a box!"

"Oh phew, that's a relief. For a moment there I was worried. Little monsters are known to have big appetites." Jason playfully tickles his ribs as he kisses Damian's temple and then rubs their cheeks together. When he looks back over at Tim he's already pulling his shoes on. "Leaving so soon, baby bird? I'm hurt."

Tim smiles faintly, knowing Jason doesn't mean it. "Sorry, I have some files to look over."

"Wayne or B?" Jason asks this deliberately casually, so that Damian won't pick up on there being any significance to what he said.

"Both."

"No wonder you're so worn out, running around after Bruce all the time."

Tim stops after he's got his second sneaker on, giving Jason a look. That same look he gave him when, during one of their Dick-mediated interventions, he'd told Jason that Batman needed a Robin. 

Jason hates that look. "I have to."

"Bull." There's no way to argue it further on either side with Damian around but Jason still makes his feelings clear. He can see Tim struggling with this as well, finally settling for an ugly curl of his lips that borders on baring his teeth.

They follow him to the door to say goodbye.

"Thanks for letting me stay the night, Jason."

"Anytime." Jason answers, surprising himself by meaning it. "Only with more warning preferably. I'm not a bed and breakfast, unless you want to start paying for the privilege."

Tim smirks, "I think I'll pass. Bye Damian."

"Bye bye, Tim-Tim." Damian reaches forwards, so Jason holds him out so Tim can nudge their heads together in farewell.

Then it's just the two of them. Not a problem by any means.

Jason fixes himself tea and a bowl of porridge while Damian continues working on his jigsaw, trying to think about how they'll pass the day. The rest of the morning is easily taken care of since it's Monday, which is a work out day and that's not something Jason's about to change even if he did get plenty of exercise last night. Routine is important, both for him and Damian.

After he finishes his breakfast he changes into his workout clothes and together he and Damian push back the couch as well as the coffee table to clear room in front of the TV. The most difficult part of making space in the apartment is moving the clutter of Damian's toys, an unholy tide that no matter what he does Jason can't seem to stop the spread of thanks to the rest of his pack. It doesn't matter how many times Jason tells them to stop, they insist on continuing to buy him things.

One day, he and Bruce need to have a serious talk about how throwing money at people is a bad way to fix relationships.

(Though God help them, they're doing better, they really are.)

Jason starts off with light exercises. Stretches, jogging on the spot, aerobics that are easy for Damian to follow. He figured out early on that Damian loves to imitate him and be included in Jason's activities, but at the same time he's only three, going on four years old. He gets tired far more quickly than Jason does, which means that by the time his son is bored enough to look for something less physically taxing to do Jason can move on to a more intense work out.

Sit-ups, push-ups, stomach-crunches and weight lifting are among the exercises he puts himself through, striving to keep himself up to a level of fighting fitness. Afterwards he cools down with a little yoga, and that catches Damian's attention again, so Jason spends half-an-hour easing him through the beginner positions they've practised previously before steering his son towards the bathroom so they can both get cleaned up.

Lunch follows, which just leaves the afternoon to get through. Jason looks at the clock, noting the expanse of hours that still exist between now and seven and sighs before going to check the cupboards. They could probably use a few things and a trip to the supermarket will pass an hour for sure. Then maybe afterwards he'll spend some more time teaching Damian the basics of the alphabet and counting before dinner.

Still, this is going to be a long day.

 

*

 

"What did you do to Jason?"

Dick looks away from the computer screen. They've got a lead on Scarecrow, or at least they think they do. An unusually large shipment of pumpkins has gone missing from a warehouse and the night watchmen for the company had been suffering from a bad case of hysteria by the time the cops arrived. Bruce is reasonably suspecting fear gas bombs in the shape of Jack O'lanterns to appear around the city on Halloween, and figuring out a way to track them amidst a sea of ordinary pumpkins is already proving to be a logistical nightmare.

If they can't find Crane before Halloween hits they could have a full scale disaster on their hands.

"Nothing." He replies to Tim, putting on his best 'who me?' face. "Why?"

Tim snorts, dropping down onto the chair arm next to Dick. He's wearing a suit, minus the jacket and tie, with the top buttons opened, meaning he must have just escaped from having to deal with some Wayne Enterprises business. Dick's so glad he established his lack of interest in taking over Bruce's company early on in both his public and private personas, because if he had to attend board meetings every day he'd jump out of a window without a line.

"He let me stay the night at his place. Said I looked tired."

Well, that explains why Dick didn't see Robin around last night. He squashes down an irrational twinge of jealousy at the knowledge. "Sounds like progress."

"Dick." His nonchalance isn't fooling anyone, least of all Tim. "Seriously."

" _Tim_." Dick emphasises back. "So not ready to talk about it yet."

Especially not here in the cave where Bruce or Alfred could appear at any second from out of the shadows. Dick's pretty sure Alfred will be on his side, but Bruce? He'd rather avoid spilling the beans on the recent developments between himself and Jason for as long as possible. For Jason's sake, if not his own.

"But there is something going on."

Dick slaps his hand against his face. Little brothers, who'd have them. "First Roy, now you. _Fine_ , yes. There is, but don't tell anyone."

"You know, if it was me seeing someone you wouldn't shut up about it." Tim points out mildly, while looking simultaneously triumphant. "Also, you are way more obvious than you think you are."

"It's not like I was trying to carry out a covert operation, you little jerk."

Dick shoves Tim in the arm, causing him to fall off the side of the chair. Though that might be due to his quiet laughter more than the impact. Dick glares down at him on the floor.

"I'm sorry. No really I am." Tim manages eventually, pulling himself back up. He half-heartedly tries to smooth his hair back down, but it's a lost cause without slathering on some more hair gel. "I didn't mean it like... look, if you and Jason are getting together I think that's great. For both of you. He's way less scary when he's happy."

The words soften his ire enough that Dick offers Tim a hand up. "I think it's early days yet to say we're definitely getting together." He confides, "But thanks."

"So you -"

"And I'm still not ready to talk about it." Dick cuts Tim off before he can ask another question, tugging his brother down against his side. Bruce's chair is big enough that they can just about squeeze in next to each other without too much overlap - not that Dick minds the close contact as he nips Tim's ear. "Want to help me look over the evidence on Scarecrow?"

"Not really, but I will anyway." Tim drops his head down onto Dick's shoulder, frowning at the screen. "Think it's going to be bad this year?"

"Tim, it's bad every year."

 

*

 

Dick texts Jason to let him know he's on his way.

As a result Jason spends the next hour (after putting Damian to bed) fidgeting and failing to settle himself down into any sort of activity that isn't worrying about Dick's imminent arrival. He switches the TV on and flicks through every channel before turning the damn thing back off in disgust. The words of the book he's reading blur in front of his eyes.

Finally Jason ends up rifling through the cupboards, wondering if he should offer Dick a drink when he gets here before remembering that he hasn't tasted anything alcoholic since the last time Roy came to visit. He should have thought about it earlier when he'd gone shopping.

To hell with it, tea, coffee, or juice will have to do.

Jason half-falls down onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling like he's looking for salvation as he waits for the seconds to tick by. He doesn't know why he's worrying over something as stupid as drinks when there are far bigger things on the line.

Like the possibility of a relationship. 

Fuck, he doesn't even know what he's thinking considering taking up that relationship in the first place. 

His life, the life he has now, while not perfect, is _good_. It's stable, it's... he has a home and Damian, what more does he need? Nothing. He doesn't need anything else. This? This is just a desire. He can live without Dick, pure and simple, but...

God damn it, he doesn't want to.

"Things were so much easier when I hated them." Jason mutters to himself, draping his arm across his face to block out the light. He stays like that until there's a knock on the door.

Well, colour him surprised, he half-expected Dick to come in through the window instead.

It takes a second knock forty seconds later to actually push Jason to his feet, fighting against the renewed feelings of trepidation that spring up in his chest at the implications of Dick being here. He takes in a deep breath, rubs his palms on his jeans and tells himself to get his shit together before opening the locks to the door. All three of them.

"Hey, Jay."

Jason stares at Dick for a full thirty seconds before he can do anything else. Of course Dick looks perfect. The wide-collared shirt he's wearing shows off the golden skin covering his neck and collarbones under the cover of his biking jacket, and the jeans he has on are sinfully tight over his muscled legs. But more than any of that it's Dick's face, and the warm smile that curves his lips that gets Jason, sending a hot coil of desire worming it's way down into his belly.

It makes him feel hopelessly inadequate, thoughtlessly wearing a worn T-shirt and ratty jeans as he is.

"Come in then." Jason says gruffly, before turning away. Anything to get a moment's reprieve from that smile.

The door shuts behind Dick as the alpha follows him into the apartment. Jason debates briefly between couch and breakfast table as the best place for them to sit while they 'talk', before deciding that the latter will forcibly put more distance between them. He thinks he catches a flash of disappointment on Dick's face as Jason pulls out one of the chairs to the small square table, but he doesn't say anything about it as he takes the seat opposite him.

Well, Dick can be disappointed all he wants, they're doing this on Jason's terms. 

"You want a drink?" He asks as a common courtesy, slouching back in his chair and lacing his fingers together under the table.

"No thanks, I'm good." Dick looks at him appraisingly. His dark blue eyes focus on Jason's face in a way that makes his cheeks warm. Up this close, it's hard for Jason to ignore the smell of him, a sharp sweetness that he's always associated with the aroma of burnt and salted caramel from the moment he'd first met Dick as an undersized thirteen year-old. "How are you?"

"Fine." Jason answers quickly, trying not to focus on that. Last night had been intoxicating enough as it was without scent added to the mix, and now the uncovered pheromones make Dick's interest in him more obvious than words ever could. The only comfort Jason has is that his scent might be having the same effect on Dick.

"That's good. I uh..." Awkwardness fills the air before Dick ducks his head down and shakes his head, smiling ruefully. "There's no easy way to start this, so I'm just going to push through, okay?"

It takes a beat for Jason to realise that the question wasn't rhetorical and that Dick's waiting for him to answer. He gives a single nod, squeezing his hands tighter together, heart in his mouth as he waits for whatever is coming next. Rejection or otherwise.

"I want to court you."

Two things happen after Dick says that. The first is that the tightness in Jason's chest eases as Dick verbally confirms that what happened last night wasn't just a fluke or a spur of the moment action brought on by adrenaline; the second is that he laughs.

"Dick," Jason says, trying to swallow back the amusement mixing with his cautious elation. "Did you seriously just use the word _court_?"

It might be the traditional term for going about these things, but for Jason, born and raised on the streets far from anything resembling tradition before Bruce got hold of him, it came across as ridiculously archaic. He wonders if it's the circus in Dick talking.

Dick huffs, the thread of his annoyance a tighter note in the melody of pheromones floating around them. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. I just thought you were four years older than me, not forty."

His packmate growls softly, which is enough to cut off the last of Jason's snickering. "Jason, I'm serious."

"So am I." Jason sits up straighter, speaking dryly. "It's just a little more old-fashioned than I expected from the guy who tried to stick his hand straight down my pants last night."

There's a small feeling of victory when Dick blushes at the reminder, countered by the note of arousal that immediately spikes through the air from them both. Dick coughs, then shakes his head. "I shouldn't have done that, I got carried away."

Jason fights down the immediate urge to assure Dick that he hadn't exactly been wrong in gauging his level of interest. That Jason telling him no had been as much a test of Dick's willingness to listen to him as anything else. Instead he squeezes his fingers more tightly together under the table. "You backed off when I asked you to, that's what matters."

"I'd never do anything you didn't want me to, Jay." Dick says softly, gaze intent once more. "Never. I'll take it as slow as you need me to if you agree. I just... I really want to try this. Us."

He swallows thickly at the words. "Me too. I guess, I mean..." Jason bites his lip, then in a rush that would make his therapist facepalm, continues, "Dick. I'm fucked up, I'm not... I have issues on top of issues. I'm not going to lie about that, I ain't exactly prime omega material."

"Jason." 

"No, look. It's true. And on top of that pile of bullshit there's Damian. He's going to come first no matter what. He has to. Fuck, I know most alphas wouldn't -"

"Jason, I'm not most alphas." Dick cuts him off before he can go any further. He reaches his hand out across the expanse of the table between them, beckoning. "I know you and what you've been through. And I understand that this may not be completely easy for either of us, but that's no reason not to try if it's what we both want." He smiles brightly, reaching out with his other hand to nudge a toy car left on the table as if to make a point. "I love Damian too, you know I do. So you having a kid that's not mine isn't going to deter me one bit."

Jason stares at Dick's hand. Under the table his own are clenched tightly enough together that he can barely feel his fingers anymore.

"Jay?" Dick prompts again gently.

"What about Bludhaven?"

"What about it?"

Jason sighs. "You live _there_ , Dick. Not in Gotham. Bludhaven's your city."

"It's only a forty minute drive, Jason. I don't mind travelling over here to see you. Or if you and Damian want to come visit me."

"Okay, but -"

" _Jason._ " Dick cuts him off, still beckoning with his hand on the table. "Stop. You're not going to put me off. I want this, I want _you_. And you want me too. Maybe it won't always be easy, but I'm prepared to work for this if you are."

Dick looks so determined in that moment that Jason can't find it in himself to bring up another argument. He suspects that no matter what he says Dick won't give in unless it's an outright rejection, and that's the one thing Jason just can't bring himself to do. He wants this too badly to be the one who stops it.

Slowly he unlaces his fingers, rubbing one palm on his trousers before lifting that hand up and over, hesitating just before placing it in Dick's. "Okay. Just, don't call it courting again, all right? It's dating. Jesus, it's not like you're going to go ask Bruce for permission or whatever." Jason's eyes narrow dangerously. "Are you?"

"God no." Dick mutters, looking like he'd rather shoot himself instead. "Dating then."

"Dating." Jason agrees, biting the inside of his cheek as he finally sets his hand in Dick's. The alpha's hand is warm and dry, sparking another hot clench in Jason's belly as Dick's fingers close around his. "So, how's this going to work?"

"You're asking me?" His - boyfriend sounds too weird too even think yet, so Jason tries not to. 

"Well yeah." Swallowing down his bitterness, Jason looks away from Dick's eyes. "You're the one with the experience. I've never done this before."

Dick's fingers tighten suddenly around his. "Never?" he asks, inhaling sharply like someone just kicked him in the gut. 

"No. I kind of died at fifteen, remember? And I know you weren't around a whole lot back then, but I was hardly the mostly popular kid in school. Any alphas who did come sniffing after me were only doing it because they or their parents wanted Bruce's money." There had been a lot of them that did that, and it was the worst thing about being forced to attend Wayne parties or galas, where Jason had to practically make a habit of hiding out to avoid fake smiles and forceful offers to dance. Those kids with their money and their upbringing who thought all they had to do was throw their scent his way to make him tumble into line and spread his legs. "After that..." Jason's face contorts at the memories, "Well, you know what happened. Dating was never on my list of priorities."

"Shit." Dick relaxes his grip, gently stroking his thumb over the back of Jason's hand in apology. "Okay. Right, okay. We'll figure it out, Jay. At your pace." He licks his lips and _damn_ if that isn't distracting to Jason in and of itself. "Can I ask you about what you're okay with right now? I don't want to do anything you won't like without realising it."

"Yeah, you keep saying that." He looks dubiously at the alpha sitting across from him. "Look, just spit it out. I'm not made of glass, and if you try to treat me like I am you can piss off back out the door right now."

"I didn't mean it like that, Jason."

"I know you didn't. I know you're just being you, but fuck, I already said yes, Dick. I'm not going to back out now. You don't know how much I..." Jason cuts himself off before he can say anything else embarrassing.

Mercifully Dick doesn't pursue what Jason had so nearly let slip. Instead he looks thoughtful, reaching up to brush a dark lock of hair out of his face before talking. His thumb keeps brushing over the back of Jason's hand, back and forth until his skin is tingling pleasantly. 

Jason suddenly wants so very badly to skip over this conversation, wondering if Dick would mind if he just leaned in and kissed him instead.

Probably not.

"So, uh." Dick finally starts while Jason's contemplating that, "You're obviously okay with kissing. But what about past that?"

"You asking if I'm okay with fucking?"

"Oh my God, Jason..."

"What?" Jason rolls his eyes, even as he feels himself blush, the tips of his ears burning. "That's what it is. Don't get squeamish on me now."

"I'm not being squeamish." Dick says defensively, "It's not just - yeah, okay. I'm asking about making - sex. I'm asking about sex."

"You almost said 'making love', didn't you?"

" _Jason_."

Jason grins, and honestly he'd feel bad for poking fun at Dick's admittedly charming old-fashioned sense of wording if not for how it helps steady his nerves. There's a certain sense of normalcy to teasing Dick. "You're such a loser, Dickiebird."

"Yeah well, you just signed up to date this loser." Dick puts both hands over Jason's now, sliding one up his wrist to his forearm. It's like he just can't help himself. Like he feels a compulsion to touch Jason and it's devastating in its effectiveness, making the traitorous parts of Jason that are wired towards submission ache to prostrate himself in return. "So, you got an answer for me, little wing?"

Jason sucks in a sharp breath. "Honestly? I... I don't know. I've never really..." He suddenly finds it very hard to look Dick in the eye. "There was only the one time before."

The very sudden and low growl Dick lets loose makes him tense up in his seat, but almost immediately the older man strokes his fingers over Jason's skin again in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I know, I just..." Dick looks sullenly down, obviously fighting himself. "Fuck."

Fucking alphas and their possessive tendencies.

"It wasn't bad." Jason grumbles defensively. It had been very good at the time, if only physically, and it wasn't until afterwards that Jason had realised agreeing to Talia's offer hadn't been his wisest choice ever. "I just mean, I've only ever done it the once, Dick. I don't have a whole lot of experience to go on. Same as with dating."

"Jason, that's not the point. You were -"

"I don't want to go in fucking depth about that with you, Dick. Not now, and maybe not ever." Jason glares at him, starting to pull his hand back. "It happened, it was fucked up, and I've moved on. It's the last thing I want to think about now with you."

"I'm -"

"No! You shut up and listen to me." Dick stops, letting Jason's hand go even though he clearly doesn't want to. His teeth tease his lip as he waits for Jason to go on. Which he does after taking a moment to gather himself.

"I said it to you before, Dick, I am messed up. There is shit in my past that made me that way, some of it you know and a lot of it you don't. Whatever. I've got a damn therapist Bruce pays to listen to me talk about that crap and her name isn't Dick Grayson. I don't need that from you, fuck, I don't _want_ it from you." At least not yet. "You want me? You're going to have to deal with that. I don't know shit about what we're doing here, and I'm not sure about my boundaries because I haven't had to deal with sex since one heat over four years ago. Figuring them out is going to be trial and error."

Across the table Dick looks unhappy, but he nods slowly in acceptance, folding his arms back across his chest. "Okay. Got it. What about last night?"

"Last night we were on a freezing rooftop in the middle of Gotham. I wasn't comfortable with that." Jason admits, realising his hesitance yesterday probably had a hand in spawning this conversation. Dick must be worried he'd accidentally triggered something and it's as sweet as it is annoying. "And... I guess I didn't want to jump straight into it with you if it wasn't going to be... well, _this_."

"A relationship?" Dick starts to smile again. He's not completely at peace with Jason shooting his enquiry about Talia down, Jason can tell that at once, but he accepts it, and that's the more important thing.

"Yeah. That." He swallows, looking over at Dick through his bangs. "I'm flying blind here, Dick."

"We'll figure it out." Dick promises him.

Relieved, Jason nods. "So..."

"So?"

"What now?"

Dick looks thoughtful, before his smile turns into a blinding grin. "We could cuddle on the couch and watch a movie together?"

"Cuddle?" Jason hasn't cuddled with anyone who isn't Damian since... he rocks his memories, fuzzy as they are in patches before his death. Maybe not since before his mom died. Not that Bruce or Dick had never hugged him back when he lived in the manor, but Jason didn't think those moments qualified as cuddling.

"Dating staple, little wing." Dick stands up, then rounds the table to offer Jason his hand again. "Come on, there's got to be something in your DVD collection that isn't Disney."

Jason thinks about that for a moment before wincing. "Uh, not exactly. We can try Netflix?"

"Netflix works." He lets Dick pull him to his feet, then over to the couch where the alpha takes a moment to fuss with the cushions before settling down in one corner. He holds out his arm to beckon Jason in, and even though it's all he wants Jason still feels nervous as he settles in against the warmth of Dick's side.

"Don't you have patrol tonight?"

"Nope." Dick drapes his arm across Jason's shoulders. It's a little awkward since Jason's a couple inches taller than him, but the problem is easily solved if he lets himself slouch down a little so his head can rest on Dick's shoulder. "Second date is go."

Jason snorts, content to watch as Dick loads up Netflix on the TV and searches through for something for them to watch. He tries not to feel embarrassed that every programme in his 'Continue Watching' list is one of Damian's cartoons. "I didn't know last night was supposed to be a date."

"Neither did I, but I think it counts if we call it one, right?"

"Seems kind of generous to call this a second date as well."

He feels more than sees Dick roll his eyes, before a soft kiss is pressed against his temple and Jason's heart skips a beat. "I promise I'll think of something better for next time, okay? We'll go out somewhere special."

Jason snorts as Dick lands on one of the Marvel movies. Typical, as if they don't already have enough superhero nonsense in their lives. He shrugs one shoulder, "Never said this was a bad way to spend a date. Besides, it might be hard to find a babysitter for Damian without someone realising what's going on."

Dick laughs, like he knows something Jason doesn't. "We'll see, little wing, we'll see. And if we can't we'll just take Damian with us."

"Famous last words."

The logistics of trying to work a relationship around a toddler are more than Jason wants to think about right now. Dick's scent surrounds him, soaking into the air, the couch and Jason's clothing, and as the movie progresses he relaxes further into the hold, pulling his legs up onto the empty spot at the end of the couch.

At first they poke fun at the film's various inaccuracies, but eventually drift into silence, and there comes a moment where Jason realises he hasn't been paying attention to the movie at all for at least thirty minutes. He has no idea what's going on with the plot, nor does he care. It's the same bad guy vs. good guy drivel as always (even though he'll give the filmmakers props for having their heroes not be afraid to take a life when it was clearly fucking necessary) and Dick is far more interesting than any of that.

But when he dares a look up at the alpha a moment later, it's still surprising to find Dick in the same boat.

It's hard to tell how long he's spent watching Jason instead of the screen, but Jason's not complaining. Not when Dick licks his lips and bends his head down towards him, the intent clear in his midnight blue eyes.

Screw the movie.

It's a slow kiss, gentler than any they shared the night before. The easy pressure of Dick's mouth against his makes Jason want to melt right off the bat, and even though he feels clumsy in response the calm knowing way Dick handles himself reassures him. So much so that Jason has to swallow back a soft whine, reminding himself that he's not one of those omegas who surrenders without a fight.

To prove this he surges upwards, pushing his mouth back against Dick's until the alpha utters a soft groan. Dick cups the side of Jason's face, rubbing his thumb across his cheek as his lips part and Jason lets himself follow suit, shuddering as Dick's tongue immediately pushes forwards into his mouth. He tastes disgusting, like mint and coffee, but the kiss feels too good for him to even think about complaining about that or anything else.

Not even that they're sat in the middle of his sitting room, with only one thin wall between them and Damian.

"God, Jay," Dick whispers reverentially when their mouths eventually part. This time Jason can't bite back a whine, his fingers holding onto the loose fabric of Dick's shirt in protest. "You smell so _good_."

Jason's gasps as Dick bends his head down, pressing his nose against his neck, just below where his scent glands are located. The skin there is sensitive, and Jason physically has to bite down a yelp when Dick swipes his tongue across it.

"Fuck. Fuck, Dick..."

"Shh, I've got you." Dick murmurs softly, repeating the action. He puts his hand on Jason's waist. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

"Shut up." Jason pants, squirming in his seat as heat sinks into his belly. "Don't leave marks."

Dick let's out a rumbling growl of disappointment at the edict, but otherwise doesn't hesitate. He licks up, a long stripe over Jason's neck and behind his ear. It's enough to make Jason see stars, and he has to clap his hand across his mouth himself from crying out loud enough to wake his sleeping son a room away.

Not satisfied with doing it just once, Dick repeats the brush of his tongue, over and over. He slips the hand not on Jason's waist into his hair, guiding his head to the side so he can get better access. The swift alternation of the tip and broad flat expanse of the muscle against his sensitive gland makes Jason feel like sobbing, squirming and kicking his feet out against the arm of the couch while Dick lets out low, pleased rumbles at his reaction.

Already he can feel himself getting slick and wet between his legs.

"Dick, mmf!" His hand slips lower down the alpha's chest, then up under the hem of his shirt to press against scarred muscle. Whoever taught Dick to do this deserves a fucking medal. Jason's so glad he didn't take sex off the table outright.

"Shhh..." Dick murmurs, pulling back, and it isn't until Jason feels Dick trying to push him down onto his back that he protests.

No... no he's not doing that.

Jason leans forwards and bites his jaw, hard enough to hear Dick yelp, then uses the brief moment of surprise it earns him to swing himself up and over Dick's lap instead.

"Little wing?" Dick looks up at him, rubbing the corner of his jaw where Jason bit him. Like this it's impossibly to miss the hard press of his cock pushing up against the fabric of his jeans, right between Jason's legs.

 _Fuck._ Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, but Jason won't back down now that he's started. "You're not getting on top of me just yet, big bird." He murmurs, swallowing as Dick shifts underneath him. Last night the alpha had the element of surprise, but now they're in Jason's territory and he's determined to be in charge.

For a moment he thinks Dick might fight that. It's in an alpha's instinct to dominate and pin an omega down, so what Jason is doing must be testing the limits of Dick's control. He can tell that by the way Dick's jaw and neck muscles tighten for a moment. But just when Jason thinks things are about to turn sour Dick suddenly relaxes instead, his hands settling back on Jason's hips.

If this acceptance doesn't take Jason's breath away he doesn't know what will.

"Okay, Jason." Dick agrees calmly, leaning up to kiss him again, "It's your call."

"Damn right it is." Jason replies after their mouths part. He swallows, gathering himself before he grinds his hips down against Dick's erection.

The effect on both of them is immediate. Dick's fingers clench down bruisingly tight on Jason's hips as he arches up against him, and Jason has to muffle a moan with another kiss. Doing it out here rather than in his bedroom is such a bad idea, yet Jason can't bring himself to suggest they move. If they try he'll probably lose his nerve.

"Fuck," Dick shivers when Jason pulls away, the taste of him sitting heavy on his tongue. "Do that again."

"What's the magic word?"

" _Jason_." Dick growls, a flash of something aggressive in his eyes even as he stays still underneath him, and fuck if being in a position of power over the alpha isn't a major turn on. So different to anything Jason's ever known before.

The alphas in Crime Alley would never have stooped so low as to letting their omegas tell them what to do, it would have been a sign of weakness to anyone watching. And Talia... when they were in bed together she had been unquestionably in charge, both by her nature and upbringing as well as Jason's painfully lacking experience. Now Jason can't stop thinking about how tempting the idea of seeing how far he can push Dick before he snaps is. It could be dangerous, but also so very, very hot.

Unfortunately, Jason knows he's nowhere near ready for that. It's better to stay safe rather than risk one of them doing something they'll regret and he's pushing enough boundaries as it is. So Jason shakes his head but kisses Dick anyway. 

"Close enough."

He moves. Slow rolls of his hips at first, getting a feel for it as they kiss over and over, and it's only in that action that Jason compromises and lets Dick dominate. Each press of Dick's cock against his sends waves of pleasure up his spine and curling into his belly, culminating in a powerful ache between his legs that Jason remembers from the times he's been in heat. It's the need to be filled, to be knotted, but fuck if Jason's prepared to go that far tonight.

They don't have any condoms for a start. And even if they did, it's something Jason knows he's going to need more time to build himself up to.

"Like that," Dick gasps against his throat. His hands shift to grasp Jason's ass, helping him move, and Jason's too preoccupied to tell him off for it. His jeans feel too tight, and his underwear is already soaked through, sticking to his skin in unpleasant ways, but taking them off will mean stopping and that - no, no that's not happening. Not when he feels so close already. "Just like that, Jay. You're doing so good."

"Fuck. Shut... shut up with that..." The praise feels good, feeding into the primal parts of Jason's brain as much as scent and the sound of Dick's voice alone does. But he kind of hates it at the same time, wanting to be sure that he's doing this solely for his own reasons rather than biological conditioning.

His whole body jolts as Dick suddenly jerks his hips up with a snarl muffled against Jason's shoulder. He can feel the impression of Dick's teeth through the fabric but so long as he's not actually biting him Jason doesn't care. "Dick!" He still can't help whining, right before he yanks up the collar of his own shirt and stuffs it in his mouth to keep himself quiet.

"I can smell how wet you are." Dick growls quietly. "Please, Jay, can I..."

His fingers brush the waistband at the back of Jason's jeans, it's the same question that he asked last night, and this time Jason hesitates only for a moment before nodding his assent. It's just fingers, nothing more.

Jason shivers as Dick's hand slides inside his jeans, even though his touch is warm. He needs this, he needs it so bad as he keeps rolling his hips, grinding down against the hot heavy line of Dick's cock and now his fingers.

He's so desperate in fact that it only takes Dick sliding one finger inside Jason for him to come.

Jason chokes as he orgasms, spit wetting the dark red fabric of his shirt. The inner walls of his cunt clench around Dick's finger at the same time as his cock shoots off a thick stream of come in his pants, muscles searching for a knot to fill him that isn't there.

Judging by the look on Dick's face it takes him by surprise too.

" _Fuck_ , little wing." He whispers, awed, and Jason blushes so hard that he doesn't think there's a drop of blood left anywhere else in his body. Dick sounds breathless, like he's on the edge himself as he lazily works that single finger in and out of Jason throughout the duration of his orgasm. "God, you're so... you have no idea how amazing you look right now."

Jason shakes his head. He has no words to say, and still doesn't dare take his shirt out of his mouth for fear of being too loud and waking Damian. 

Fortunately, Dick takes care of that problem for him by pulling the fabric away and kissing him instead. Only when he seems sure that Jason has completely followed through does he take his mouth away and pull his finger out of him. "You okay?" 

"Yeah... yeah I'm good." Jason manages once he remembers how words work again. He swallows then, because he can feel that Dick's still hard underneath him. "You need to..."

"I'm good, you don't have to -"

"Shut up!" Jason snaps again, careful not to raise his voice. "Just let me."

Dick's mouth hangs open for a moment before he nods. "Okay."

Jason glares at him again for good measure before sliding back a little on Dick's lap, enough that he can undo the button of his jeans and slide the zipper down. He won't pretend that he isn't nervous doing it, but the afterglow of his own orgasm helps a lot with mitigating that feeling.

"Superman boxers, really?" He laughs breathlessly once he sees.

"Hey, I wasn't actually expecting us to go this far tonight." Dick grins sheepishly up at him.

"As if you wouldn't have worn them anyway."

"Damn right I would."

At least they're not Batman briefs, Jason thinks wryly, that really would have killed the mood.

He allows himself to takes one deep, calming breath before sliding his hand inside Dick's boxers and wrapping a hand around his cock. 

The effect is immediate, as Dick bucks up against him and into his hand, held down only by Jason's greater weight on top of him. He starts to make a sound and Jason quickly presses his other hand across Dick's mouth to keep him quiet. Rather than piss him off, the action only seems to turn Dick on _more_ as Jason runs his right hand up and down the length of him.

It's a pretty nice length too. The sight and feel of hot thick flesh against his palm is enough to make Jason salivate as his brain immediately starts conjuring up fantasies of Dick fucking him in the truest sense of the word, but he forces them back, focusing on the task at hand. In his hand.

It doesn't take long. Dick's already stretched to breaking point after witnessing Jason's orgasm, as soon as he starts jacking him off quicker Dick's coming. His hips jerking in quick little thrusts against Jason's fingers, and Jason's taken by surprise both by the sudden bulge of a knot against his palm and Dick yanking up his shirt to expose his stomach. His other hand encircles Jason's on his cock, and Jason realises why when he feels the hot splatter of semen against his skin.

 _Fuck_.

"Asshole." Jason groans as he lets himself slump forwards against Dick's shoulder, taking his hand away from his mouth so the alpha can speak. "Fucking mess you made."

"Takes two to tango, Jay." Dick sighs contentedly, like he didn't just find a way around Jason telling him not to mark him. He keeps hold of Jason's hand against his knot, biting his lip when Jason tries to pull it away. "Wait... just... leave it there a couple minutes, please? It wont take long to go down since I'm not uh... in you."

Well, fuck if that isn't an image. "Fine." He mumbles into Dick's shirt. "But I'm going to need to air freshen the shit out of this room before Damian wakes up."

"Please don't talk about Damian right now."

Jason laughs at Dick's weak protest, experimentally squeezing his fingers a little tighter. "Moron."

"Ah! Ha... yep." Dick gasps before kissing his temple. He plays with Jason's hair with his free and decidedly less messy left hand. "Please tell me I can take a shower here before I go home."

"If the alternative is Bruce smelling me on you when you walk in the manor then by all means, take all the time you need."

"Ugh, okay. Two topics that are off-limits during and after any kind of sex, Bruce and Damian. Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but please let's not think of him now." The horror on Dick's face would make Jason laugh again if he didn't feel the same way. "Come on," he tugs Jason in closer, wrapping his arm tight around him. "Post-orgasm cuddle-time."

"You and your damn cuddling." Jason grumbles to cover up how much the idea appeals to him, but the fact that he raises no other protest as Dick bundles him in close is damning in itself. He closes his eyes, let's himself breathe in the mixed scent of Dick and sex in the air and on his skin until his heart rate slows and he starts to drift pleasantly, high on pheromones, endorphins and the heady thrill of being held by an alpha he trusts.

By the time Dick's knot goes down he's damn near asleep.

"Hey." Dick murmurs in his ear then, "Come on, little wing. You need to get cleaned up before you can sleep. Go grab a shower."

"What about you?"

"I'll take the next one and clean up in here for you while I wait. Don't worry about waiting up for me to leave either, okay? I can let myself out."

Reluctantly Jason peels himself away. His pants, hand and stomach feel unpleasantly sticky, and he knows Dick's right, if he lets himself fall asleep like this now he'll regret it in the morning. It's not like he's in heat where an omega practically craves those sensations.

"Fuck," he mumbles, too tired to argue. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Dick leans and kisses him one last time, soft and with just a teasing press of his tongue. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

Jason sighs as he tugs his shirt back down over his stomach and stumbles to the bathroom. He feels bad, yet he's also grateful that Dick understands without having to be told that Jason isn't ready for him to stay the night yet. Not just because of how intimate that would be (in some ways sharing his bed, the inner sanctum of his den, would be far more a show of trust than sex could ever be), but also because it avoids having a potentially awkward conversation with Damian about why Uncle Duck is sleeping in mommy's bed or on the couch before either of them are prepared for it.

And also because, as Jason is well aware, little kids have very little understanding of the need for secrecy compared to adults.

In the shower he gives himself a thorough enough scrubbing that he's sure he's gotten most of Dick's scent off his skin before stumbling to bed. Already he misses it, but when he closes his eyes Jason can hear Dick moving around the apartment and that's fine, he knows Dick won't do anything to hurt him. That with Dick around he and Damian are safer than he ever thought they could be.

It's that thought in his mind that finally lets Jason slide into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends, here is a slightly less intense chapter than the last, but still some important stuff happens.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and your amazing feedback in your comments ♥

Going down into the Bat Cave still gives Jason the shivers, even after all these years.

He places his hand against the cool stone wall just like he did when he was a boy, tracing the rough-hewn rock under his fingertips as he makes his way down the steep steps, and Jason knows that if he were to close his eyes he could almost imagine that he was twelve years-old all over again, quaking in his pixie-boots with the anticipation of a long night of crime-fighting to come. 

It's hard to admit even to himself how much he misses those years. The nights when he fought at Bruce's side had been the first time in Jason's life where he'd felt like he truly belonged. He had been _good_ , had done good, and when Bruce would cup the back of his neck in praise at a job well done Jason had never been happier, knowing that he was someone worth something to somebody.

Then it had all come crashing down because of one stupid mistake. _Jason's_ stupid mistake, because he'd so desperately wanted a parent he thought would accept him for everything he was, not just what they wanted him to be.

Jason's far too damaged to be Robin now, but Dick was right when he called him out about wanting to be back on the streets of Gotham. He can still help as the Red Hood, and Jason wants that badly enough that he's even willing to play things a little less lethally to satisfy both of his pack alpha's strict moral codes.

"Jason." Bruce breaks the silence before he can say a word, without looking away from the towering computer screen as Jason passes the cold, empty space where the case containing his old suit used to be. 

It had taken five explosive arguments after Jason came back to the pack for Bruce to finally get rid of the damn thing. Or the case at least. Jason highly suspects the suit itself is still knocking about somewhere, tucked away in some secret drawer where Bruce can pull it out to cry over whenever he's feeling broody. And that's fine. If Bruce wants to keep torturing himself that way Jason doesn't care, just so long as he doesn't have to look at it or its unfortunate moniker.

 _A good soldier_. Jason had been anything but that.

"Hey B."

"You're going to be late for your appointment."

Jason rolls his eyes, trust those to be the first words out of Bruce's mouth. 

"I got time." Shaking his head, Jason hops up onto the corner of the console and kicks his feet out insolently so they come just shy of hitting Bruce's legs. Another thing he used to do back when he was Robin. "I need to talk to you about something."

In the small eternity that it takes Bruce to answer Jason turns his head and lets his eyes take in the information on the screen. Scarecrow, Calendar Man, Ivy... and right in the corner, one minimised window where the only part of the title visible is 'Jo...'. Jason instantly looks back away from it, before reprimanding himself.

Bruce probably minimised that case file the moment he noticed Jason coming down into the cave in a bid not to upset him. A nice gesture, but Jason knows if that he's going to get back in the game he'll need to prove that he can do it without putting a bullet between the Joker's eyes on reflex. 

(Hence why Jason is choosing to have this conversation _before_ he goes to his monthly meeting with his therapist, rather than after.)

Finally Bruce stops typing and settles back in his chair, giving Jason at least half of his attention; though you could never tell for sure with Bruce, whose mind never stops working. "What is it, Jay?"

Well, now or never. Jason rubs the bridge of his nose for a moment self-consciously, and even though he knows no trace of Dick can possibly remain on his skin in the time between then and now he still feels a prickling on the back of his neck as Bruce analyses him with his eyes, ears and nose.

"I want to start going out again."

"Out."

It's amazing how much meaning Bruce can pack into a single word. Jason grits his teeth, because he realises that even though Bruce knows what he's saying he's going to be a dick and make Jason explicitly state it out loud for the record. "Yeah, out. Y'know, punching bad guys? Keeping the city safe. Not sitting on my ass every night after Damian goes to bed."

Just like that, he has Bruce's full attention. 

"You think you're ready for that?" Bruce asks, and it's not totally demanding. There's a thread of concern woven into his scent and it's good that Jason caught him down here when he isn't wearing scent-blockers for once so that he can pick up on that.

"Would I be down here asking you if I wasn't?" Jason shoots back, trying not to rise to the bait. "It's been two years, Bruce."

"You have Damian."

"Yeah, I do, and don't you dare try and use him against me. You know I'd never put anything before his welfare." He glares, biting down against the heat rising in his cheeks at the merest implication otherwise. It's exactly the type of shot Jason expected Bruce to take to test him, and make no mistake, he is testing him already. "He's almost four, Bruce. And plenty of other omega vigilantes have kids and still go out to do the job. Roy does."

"What Roy Harper does isn't my business."

"And what I do is none of yours." Jason growls, even though that's not strictly true. The terms of their bargain had been very clear. "I'm asking you as a courtesy, not because I actually need your damn permission. I've done everything you asked of me, B, _everything_ , and now I want to get back out there. I want to help the way you taught me to."

Bruce gets up from his chair. At his height he could loom over Jason even if he were stood up straight, which he isn't, and Jason has to force himself to stay still where he's sitting rather than also rise to match him. Bruce won't hurt him, he knows that. He's sure of it.

"Why now?"

"The fact that it's almost Halloween and you, Dick and Tim are already starting to run yourselves ragged?" Jason lies through his teeth. He wishes Dick was here backing him up, then maybe it would be easier. "And I guess it's always been in the back of my mind that me being benched wasn't going to be a permanent thing."

Or not. Being around Dick now is more complicated than ever, and even the briefest thought about him makes Jason worry that his body may let loose a signal that Bruce couldn't miss.

"Jason -"

"Look," He barrels forwards before Bruce can complete that sentence. "You trained me for this, and you know I could be damn useful if you let me help people the way I'm supposed to as well as raising Damian. It shouldn't have to be one or the other, B." Jason swallows thickly. "It's not like I'm asking you to let me go out and execute a bunch of criminals. I thought I'd proven myself to you on that front by now."

Bruce's expression softens as the words hit their mark. "I'm not saying you haven't, son, but it's not that simple."

"It could be if you'd just say yes."

"This is a bad time." Bruce looks back at the computer screen, his jaw tightening at the names of the rogues on display. "You're out of practice."

"And you're making excuses." Jason counters, following Bruce's gaze. "I'm a big boy, Bruce. I know what's out there. I follow the news just like every other person in Gotham, and unlike them I actually get to hear the truth from the source."

Bruce shakes his head. "Not now. But I promise we'll have this conversation at a later date, Jason." He reaches over, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder that then slips back to cup the back of his neck. Bruce squeezes gently and Jason has to fight not to sink down at the affirming touch that makes him feel better for all the wrong reasons.

Manipulative alpha bullshit meant to pacify him, that's what it is.

"Yeah? And when will that be?" Jason pulls away from the touch with gritted teeth, finally straightening up from his seat on the console. "Think real fucking hard about it while I'm gone, Bruce, because I sure as hell am not changing my mind."

He pulls away, taking two steps before turning and looking back at Bruce, who is watching him with the constipated expression on his face that he only gets when he's feeling conflicted about something. Jason points a finger his way as he growls, "And you better get upstairs to spend some time with Damian today, because if I come back and find out you haven't I swear I will prove just how capable I still am of kicking your ass."

Then he leaves, long angry strides carrying him back up out of the cave and through the manor's front door to his waiting car.

 

*

 

Dick's up by the time Jason comes back from his therapy appointment, polishing off a plate of Alfred's excellent French toast as a late breakfast, stroke afternoon tea. It's been two days since their 'second date', and the moment he smells Jason standing in the doorway to the kitchen Dick feels his heart skip a beat.

"Little wing." A smile curves across Dick's lips as he pushes his plate aside, sparing a quick look around the kitchen and at the window before he stands and crosses the tiled floor to kiss him. "Hey, good looking."

"Don't." Jason protests weakly, but he still lets Dick take his hand as he presses their mouths together. Up this close it's hard to miss how oddly pale and worn he looks, so different from two days before.

Once upon a time, it wouldn't have been so unusual to see Jason that way when he came home from therapy, but nowadays it's a rarer occurrence. Jason's been doing better, the hard sessions are few and far between, and this, plus the sickly note of stress in his scent, causes Dick to frown as he pulls away.

Alfred always told him discretion was the better part of valour, so he leads Jason over to the kitchen table and encourages him to sit down before saying anything. Of course he's unable to stop himself from stealing one more kiss as he does; if only because Jason seems to relax fractionally at the contact. "Hold on, I'll grab you some tea."

"I can do it myself."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't get this great view." Dick singsongs as he heads for the kettle, smacking his hand against his ass back at Jay who snorts with muffled laughter. When Dick turns back around, waiting for the water to boil, he's even smiling. "Bad session?"

"You could say that." Jason rubs his fingernail over a whorl in the wood, "Let me guess, you only just got up?"

"It's a hard life I live." He shrugs, feeling the fresh bruises he got last night ache against his ribs. One of Penguin's men had gotten lucky with a two-by-four. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Dick nods in acceptance, because the unspoken agreement stands that anything that goes on during Jason's sessions is completely private unless he chooses to volunteer that information; the same as it is for any of them when they feel the need to speak to a professional. In the cupboard he finds Jason's favourite Ceylon tea, and takes his time brewing it even though he's no great expert in the hopes that it will help where words can't. 

Finally Dick brings the mug over and takes the chair next to Jason, pressing their thighs together under the table. "I missed you." Bursts from his lips before he can help himself, overriding anything else he might have thought of saying.

Jason starts, then blushes as he looks over the top of his mug at Dick. "Dick, it's been two days."

"I still missed you." Dick leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he watches Jason drink. 

"Idiot." Up this close he can't keep himself from noticing anew how attractive Jason is: a fact Dick had always peripherally aware of, but never let himself consciously recognise before. However now that they're together it's like he can't help it; everything from the almost unhealthy paleness of his skin to the bump in Jason's nose where it's been broken previously fascinates him. As does the sleek angle of his jaw that Dick now knows what it's like to kiss behind. 

Even the jump of muscles in Jason's throat when he swallows has him hypnotised. 

"Have you got anything else planned for you and Damian today?" Dick asks, inspired suddenly.

Jason shakes his head. "He's with Bruce now, and we're having dinner here, but otherwise... uh, no. No plans."

"Want to take him to the park before dinner? It's not too cold today, and the sun's out. Fresh air might help you feel better."

Jason's eyes shift to the old clock that sits on the kitchen wall. It's a heavy thing, made of dark wood and ornate brass, but Alfred keeps it tightly wound and accurate to the second. 

"I don't know, Dick. It's already after three. We'd be cutting it kind of close to dinner and you know what Alf's like about punctuality." Jason squints down at the bottom of his cup, obviously reluctant but searching for a compromise. "We could take him out on the grounds instead? Dami'd be just as happy with that as he would the park."

"We could." Dick agrees, drumming his fingers on the table," But I was kind of hoping to go somewhere where you wouldn't mind me holding your hand."

"Oh." Looking a little dumbstruck, Jason's eyes flicker to the clock again, then the table, anywhere but at Dick. Dick waits as patiently as he can for him to work through whatever it is that's running through his head and come up with an answer.

Finally Jason draws in a deep breath, looking torn as he shakes his head. "Not today, Dick. Just... not today, okay?"

"Okay." Dick says regretfully, forcing his disappointment down into the very pit of his stomach. He settles for pressing his leg more firmly against Jason's instead, glad that he doesn't pull away from the contact. "We should still take Damian out to play on the grounds though."

A smile flickers over Jason's face, tinged by a relief that's painful to see. Dick hates to think that Jason could ever have any anxiety over the idea of Dick being upset with him over something so trivial. "Sure, just let me finish this and we'll go rescue Bruce from the monster."

"You got it, little wing."

Damian's more than enthusiastic to see them when they enter the nursery, a room Dick had vaguely known about but never quite believed the existence of until Alfred opened it up shortly after Jason came home. He and Bruce are sat on the rug-covered floor together, and Dick thinks it's beyond cute to see his mentor - the biggest baddest alpha on the planet - be reduced quite passively to a child's climbing frame.

And make no mistake, that's just how Damian treats him. He always wants to ride on Bruce's shoulders or be lifted up in the air, enamoured by his grandfather's impressive height as much as his commanding presence. It's like watching a lion with his cub.

Not quite so charming is the look Jason gives Bruce.

It's still not unusual to see the two of them at odds with each other, even now after the biggest sins on either side have largely been forgiven, but Dick struggles to think of any recent falling out that could conjure such a reaction on Jason's part. Whatever it is, it must have happened in the last day or so, because Bruce's jaw tightens as well.

Normally he's much better at hiding his reactions than that.

"Hey little D," Dick says to break the tension, as always seems to be his job when he's not the one involved in arguments. "Have you been having fun with your grandpa?"

"Yes!" Damian smiles as he tugs valiantly on Bruce's arm, making a show of trying to pull him over. He even sinks his teeth into Bruce's sleeve, savaging it before giving Dick a hopeful glance. "Duck, play."

"Hmm..." Over Damian's head Bruce gives Dick a look that promises retribution later if he should so much as try, which of course only encourages Dick to make a show of stalking closer. He goes so far as to bare his teeth like he's considering making a serious challenge of it. "Maybe."

"Dick..." Bruce warns in low tones.

"Bruce." Dick echoes, unrestrainedly grinning as he continues his posturing. Still hanging off Bruce's arm, Damian giggles, then gasps as Dick takes a step closer, loosing a playful growl at the two of them.

In his periphery he can see the glare on Jason's face start to be replaced by cautious amusement.

"Dick, don't you dare."

"Duck, do it! Do it!" Damian eggs him on, and really, who is Dick to deny his favourite nephew his wish? You can take the boy out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of the boy. At his heart Dick is always a performer.

He gives Damian plenty of time to clear the way as he lunges forwards, and Bruce is up on his feet before he's even made it behind the safety of his mother's legs. Dick hears Damian squeal in excited wonder as the two alphas collide, and with a wink at Bruce, Dick lets him catch his arm and throw him over his shoulder onto the bright patchwork rug, narrowly missing the antique rocking horse in the corner of the room.

"Oh no!" He groans theatrically as Bruce puts his hand over his throat. There's no real pressure, and Dick's pretty sure Bruce is fighting a smile too as he mock-growls down at him. "Grandpa got me!"

"Grandpa, no!" Damian calls, "Mommy! Mommy! Save him!"

Jason snorts, laughing. "Grandpa won fair and square, kiddo. Uncle Duck will have to live to fight another day."

"Noo!" When Bruce pulls back Damian launches himself on top of Dick, and Dick grunts at his weight. He's gotten to be pretty big for a kid for his age. "Uncle Duck, get up. You gotta. Gotta get up, Duck."

"Ugh... don't know if I can, little D. Light's fading from my eyes... I think I need..."

"What? What you need, Duck?"

"I think I need..." Dick bites down on a grin as his nephew leans in closer. "Kisses!"

He flips them over in an instant, trapping Damian under him as he peppers kisses all over his face. Damian squawks and squeaks, shoving and kicking at him, and those sounds swiftly turn to laughter as Dick starts tickling him as well. "Mommy help!"

"Which one's the three year old again?" Jason asks dryly in the background, a second before Dick hears the hearty base of Bruce's rare chuckle. 

"Beats me."

Footsteps come up behind him, and a second later Jason pulls Dick back by the shoulder as he crouches next to him. "Sorry, Dickie, I'm going to have to ask that you return my son to me."

"Aww, c'mon, do I have to?"

"Yes!" The two adults exchange a grin as Damian pipes up between them, and Dick makes a show of reluctantly relinquishing his hold so that Jason can scoop Damian up instead. 

Jason presses a kiss to his temple as he sways back and forth a little. "Hey, you want to go out for a walk before dinner with me and Uncle Duck, Dami?"

"Grandpa come too?" From his position on the floor Dick smiles as Damian's head swivels about like a periscope between them. He really is too cute.

"I think Grandpa has some work to do." Jason replies, and there's something pointed about that remark, but Bruce doesn't rise to it. He just nods in agreement.

"I do." He still steps in close despite the tension, reaching to cup the back of Damian's head fondly. "I'll see you at dinner, Damian. Be good for your mother."

The toddler huffs as Bruce leaves the room, knocking his head into Jason's chin. "I always good."

Jason winces. "Uh huh. I'll remember you said that the next time you decide to pull all of mommy's books off the shelf and shove them under the couch."

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did. It happened yesterday, I remember." Jason rolls his eyes. "Don't tell me lies."

"No lies." Damian agrees, face a beacon of innocence. "But I didn't."

Dick laughs as he gets up to his feet. "Sounds like a solid argument to me."

"Don't encourage him." Jason deliberately steps on Dick's foot hard enough to make him wince, and Dick immediately gives him an apologetic smile. "Now come on, Dami, if you're going outside you need your shoes and coat on."

"Batman shoes."

"Yeah, yeah. Batman shoes, I know."

Together they manage to get Damian dressed for the outdoors, pulling on the aforementioned shoes and coat, as well as a pair of gloves and a snug hat. Despite what Dick said about the sun being out there's still a bite of cold in the air, and it's better to be safe rather than sorry as they set off down the path leading into the gardens. Miserably sick children are no fun for anyone.

Here on the manor grounds Jason's not quite so worried about Damian's safety as he would be elsewhere, so he lets him enjoy the rare opportunity to run off ahead of them on his own while the two adults walk together.

"So," Dick says eventually, when they stop to watch Damian peer under one of the hedge animals at something only he can see. "You and Bruce okay?"

Jason grimaces. "We're fine."

"Well, not to doubt you, but you seemed kind of mad at him back there. What happened?"

"Nothing." Jason says at first, and though Dick could press him he instead waits, giving Jason the time to volunteer the information himself should he choose. It's a decision that ends up working out for him, and Dick congratulates himself on his ever growing fluency in Jason-ese. "Well, no. Not nothing. It's..."

"Yeah?" 

"I told him I wanted to start patrolling again."

Suddenly Dick understands why Jason came back from therapy looking the way he did. Taking the opportunity with the high hedges around them, Dick takes a step closer to Jason so that their shoulders press together through their coats and brushes his fingers against Jason's. "How'd he take it?"

"Not... not good, Dick." Jason laughs bitterly, "Guess you were wrong about him trusting me after all."

"Did he say that?"

"Not in so many words. He just made excuses. He told me I was 'out of practice', that I wasn't ready. And that now wasn't the right time to talk about it." Jason clenches his jaw as he draws in tighter against himself, and Dick wants nothing more than to wrap his arm around his waist and hold him close. To rub his cheek against Jason's and spread his scent across the omega's skin to reassure him that he's wanted, but he also knows Jason wouldn't appreciate it like another omega might; even if they weren't at risk of having an audience. "I should have known better than to ask."

Dick's pretty sure he'll regret what he's about to say next, but takes the plunge anyway. "He's not entirely wrong, you know."

Jason laughs bitterly. "Fuck you. That's exactly what the doc said."

"Oh yeah?" He's surprised, but not unpleasantly so as he prompts Jason to continue. "What else did she say?"

"That maybe I'm trying to rush into things, considering the circumstances. And that, uh..." Jason glances Damian's way to check that he's still okay before continuing. "And that my judgement may be affected considering sudden recent changes in my personal life."

 _Them_ , Dick realises with a start, he's referring to them. "You told her about us?"

"Dick, I tell her about everything. That's kind of the point, and can we stick to the subject at hand please?"

"Uh, sure. Sorry." He flushes, embarrassed, yet also incredibly pleased in a bizarre way that their new relationship was already significant enough to Jason that he talked about it in therapy. Dick just hopes that part of the session came out positive. "Go on."

Jason rubs the back of his neck. "Thing is, as much as I hate it, she might have a point. I want to be back out there for me, that's a fact, but wanting to get back out there immediately? That's uh... more about you." 

"Because I asked you to?"

"You said you wanted me at your back." Jason says more quietly, glancing down at the gravel-filled path. 

Oh. _Oh._

Dick suddenly flashes back about seven years, to a fourteen year-old Jason who only ever wanted to please the people around him. Who based his value to others on how useful he could be; because he was afraid that if he didn't fit the explicit mould they needed him to then he'd be left behind.

"I do, Jay." Dick says softly, "But I can wait until you're ready. It's not a now or never thing."

"Yeah see, rationally I know that. But..." Jason shakes his head. "I don't fucking know. I'm still pissed at B for the way he acted. He even tried to..." 

Jason makes a grasping motion at the back of his neck and Dick realises with a sinking sensation what that was supposed to be. Normally a squeeze to the back of a neck was a warm, affirming gesture, shared easily between pack members who trusted one another. It had special significance too between parents and children, and Dick has no doubt that Bruce meant well by it, but at the same time with Jason...

Jason notably has a problem with people using what some think of as harmless biological tricks to manipulate his moods without obtaining explicit permission from him first.

"Okay." Dick says after a moment, "Okay. I get it."

"Do you?" Jason's fingers twitch, in a tell that usually means he wants a cigarette even though he's been off them for years. "Maybe he's right, maybe I do need to practice first, take the remedial vigilante class or whatever, but _fuck_. He could have at least said that I could do it eventually instead of trying to dismiss me."

Dick sighs, then reaches out, taking his time in slipping his hand around Jason's so that he can pull it away if he wants to. He squeezes gently, rubbing his thumb across a small scar that runs over the knuckle of Jason's index finger. "Jay, I know I don't need to tell you this, but Bruce is kind of an ass. Especially about things like this. He probably thinks he's protecting you."

"I don't need to be protected, Dick." Jason growls lightly.

There are parts of Dick that want to argue with that statement, but he doesn't let them show. "You and I know that, but Bruce? He kind of has issues around loss, if you haven't noticed. And you... uh, well..."

"I died." Jason says openly, and even after all this time Dick still can't suppress a wince at the mention. No matter how many years go by since that terrible day - the terrible day he wasn't even on the planet for - he just can't make peace with it. The omega shakes his head, "He's going to have to get over it someday, Dick. Same as the rest of you. It happened but I'm here now, I'm alive."

"All the more reason why he doesn't want to risk losing you again."

Jason grimaces before looking away. "Yeah, right. Because I'm the fucking princess in the tower. His one stupid omega kid who turned homicidal after getting himself blown up and now can't be trusted to do anything right."

Watching Jason's moods go down like this is like being a front row spectator to the sinking of the Titanic. Sudden, and so fast you were never sure if you had the time to salvage the situation. "Jay, that's not true."

"Fuck you. You're on his side aren't you? You're always on his damn side."

Dick bites back a growl, stopping the motion of his thumb but keeping hold of Jason's hand. "Did you not hear me call Bruce an ass earlier? I'm not saying Bruce is _right_ , I'm saying I understand why he acted the way he did. For Chrissakes, I'm the one who said I wanted you back out there with me in the first place, Jay. You know I do. The only thing I'm agreeing with him on is that you need to train again first."

"And exactly how am I supposed to do that if he won't give me the time of day, huh?" Jason demands, withdrawing further, tight and defensive and Dick knows he has to do something quick to pull him out of it, even as he wishes that Jason still wasn't like this. That he didn't look immediately to the fault in everything Bruce did. Or perceive that anyone who didn't immediately lash out with him was against him.

Thankfully in this case Dick has an immediate idea of what to do. "Because I'll help you." 

Jason looks doubtful, but his response this time isn't immediately hostile. "What?"

"I'll help you."

"Really?" 

"Of course I will, Jay. Bruce can't stop you going down into the cave while you're here." At least not that Dick will let him, even if he has to challenge Bruce to do it. "The penthouse has a gym on the top floors, as well as the larger training rooms in the sub-basement. Or I've got my place in Bludhaven where we can train if you'd feel more comfortable there."

Jason's teeth sink into his lip, worrying the plump flesh before he finally sighs with what looks and smells like a mixture of relief and cautious hope. "Okay, I guess."

"We could even take some more late night runs together." Dick punctuates this statement with a suggestive wink, and Jason blinks before snorting in amusement. 

"Will those count as dates too?" He indulges Dick by letting him pull him closer, until they're pressed side to side. Close enough, that if either of them were to lean forward just a little more, they'd easily be kissing.

Dick swallows as he resists the urge. 

"Hey, why not?" Dick lifts Jason's hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of his hand instead quickly. It helps suppress the need, but not by much. Suddenly he's struck by an idea, "Speaking of, how do you feel about Friday?"

Jason's cheeks redden, and his mouth parts a little at the press of lips against his skin. It seems to take him a moment before he can talk again. "Friday. I, uh..." He seems to think it over before nodding. "Sure, okay. Is this a date with Damian, or do I need to try and find a sitter?"

"With Damian. I think it'd be hard to find anyone with time to spare at the moment." Dick says with a grin, because he's happy to go out with both of them. He knows they won't be able to get Tim or Cass now, even if she were here and not across the world, and Barbara's busy managing her own team. There's no way Bruce will allow more than one of them to have a night off at a time as they creep into the final week before Halloween.

"Right." Jason doesn't look unhappy about it, anyway. And considering he's the most dedicated parent Dick's ever known that's hardly surprising. "You sure that B won't be mad at you for skipping over another night of patrol?"

"He can deal with it."

He licks his lips nervously, "And what'll you tell him when he asks why?"

"That he can deal with it." Dick squeezes Jason's hand. He knows Jason still doesn't want to tell everyone (Bruce) about their relationship, but Dick's already starting to chafe at hiding it just two days in. "He doesn't get to control every aspect of my life, even if he is the pack leader."

Jason smirks. "There's hope for you yet, Dickie. So what's the plan?"

"That's a surprise."

"Dick..."

"Come on. You trust me right?"

"Why do you always play that card against me." Jason grumbles. "You know I do."

To hell with it, Dick might just have to risk kissing him here after all. And he's just started to lean in when a yell to their right makes them jump apart again.

"Mommy!"

Dick's eyes flicker across to Damian as he brings Jason's hand back down quickly. "Never a dull moment, huh?"

"Never." Jason squeezes Dick's fingers back for another moment before letting go as Damian comes bounding back over to them. His little face is pinched up tight, and when he stops in front of the couple he can't seem to keep still, fidgeting from side to side. "What is it, little man?" Jason asks.

Damian beckons him down and Dick watches amused as Jason crouches. The stage whisper Damian uses is not even close to being quiet. "I got's go."

"Gotta go what?" 

The looks Damian fixes his mother with is distinctly unimpressed, all heavy eyebrows and pursed lips. "Gotta _go_."

"You mean - oh, oh okay." Jason runs his fingers over Damian's hair, brushing out a small twig that's gotten lodged behind his ear. "Do you need it now, or can you wait until we get back to the house?"

"House!"

"Figured you'd say that." Jason stands back up and smiles ruefully at Dick. "Sorry, big bird, we're going to have cut this short."

Dick grins and holds up his hands. "Hey, I understand. When you gotta go, you gotta go. Right, little D?"

"Gotta go!"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." Jason swings Damian up into his arms and starts walking. Presumably because his long strides will get them there a lot faster than letting Damian walk by himself would.

Dick follows behind just a little more sedately, watching them together with a softer smile on his face. There's a warm clench in his chest, followed by a distinct urge to chase Jason down and pull him back. He wants so badly to hold him, to spread his scent across his skin, to broadcast and not hide from _anyone_ the new definitions of their relationship with each other.

 _Stop it_. There'll be plenty of time for that in the future when Jason is willing, for now Dick just has to be patient and enjoy what he has.

 

*

 

"You know you don't have to do that, Master Jason."

"And you know I do it because I want to, Alfred." Jason puts the last of the dishes from dinner down on the side, ready for rinsing before they go into the washing machine. "The world won't end if you let someone help you, you know. You're pretty fond of telling us that."

Alfred hums as he starts to run the tap, like he's thinking it over as Jason leans on the counter beside him. "You are quite right, I am fond of saying that. But I still would not mind if you chose to spend this time upstairs with the family instead."

"Strictly speaking, Alf, you're as much my family as any of them are." He shrugs as he passes Alfred the first plate. "I've always liked spending time with you as much as anyone else."

"That's very kind of you to say, sir." The smile on Alfred's face doesn't go unnoticed. "And if I may be so bold as to mention, you seem to have been in a better mood since you returned from your walk out in the gardens with Master Dick."

Shit. Has he been that obvious? Jason tries to shrug the remark off, but remembering the way he'd felt earlier makes it difficult. "The fresh air did me some good."

"I dare say it did." When Jason shoots Alfred a look at that remark the butler is quite innocently focusing on rinsing off the excess pieces of food from the fine china. "And Master Dick too."

"Alfred..." 

"Yes, sir?"

Jason bites his lip, grabbing another plate and handing it over. "Nothing."

"Hm."

They work together in silence for a few minutes. Jason passing the various dishes and utensils over to Alfred, who rinses them off and stacks them on the side ready to go into the dishwasher. But eventually Jason can't bear it any longer, he has to know.

"Alf."

"Yes, Master Jason?"

He sighs as he leans his head forwards onto the cool surface of the counter, feeling like a little kid again, hanging around and holding onto Alfred's apron strings whenever the sheer size of the rest of Wayne Manor overwhelmed him. "Is there anything that gets past you in this house?"

When Jason looks up Alfred has just the barest corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile. He reaches over and puts his hand on Jason's shoulder in what might be the most low-key show of solidarity he's ever experienced. "Don't worry, sir." The butler says smugly, "Your secret is safe with me."

Right, Jason thinks, they're definitely not being subtle enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred Pennyworth: World's Greatest Butler.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy all, hope you're having a great weekend. I don't have much to say about this chapter, except that there's more porn at the end here. I hope you all enjoy it XD

Friday, when it comes, is grey and muggy. A typical day for Gotham at this time of year, and one that finds Jason going over everything he needs for him and Damian to spend a night away from home.

Dick had contacted him just last night, presumably while hanging upside down from somewhere high up if the sound of whistling wind in his ear was anything to go by, to ask Jason how he felt about staying overnight somewhere. At once Jason was rightly suspicious, but Dick promised him that they weren't going far, not even out of Gotham, and so he'd found himself agreeing despite his misgivings.

"This better be worth it." he'd growled down the phone.

Dick had just laughed, "Don't worry, little wing. You and Damian will love what I have planned."

Toothbrushes, at least two sets of spare clothes and pyjamas for Damian in case of any spills or accidents, some small toys (most importantly Daw), the current book they were reading, and a blanket from Jason's bed covered in his scent... Jason reaches up and rubs his temples. Children are a nightmare to take anywhere. Sure he's still forgetting something, Jason goes into the kitchen cupboard and pulls out a bunch of healthy snacks, throwing those into another pocket of the bag as well.

Across the room, Damian watches his movements with fascination. "Where we goin'?"

"I told you already, Dami, I don't know."

Small hands latch onto his jeans a second later, his _good_ jeans. Jason's actually making an effort to dress up today, feeling that a date - even a date with his kid tagging along - warrants it. He's got a newer shirt on underneath his black leather jacket, plain red with a scarf that almost matches it to guard against the cold wrapped around his neck. Not fashionable by any means, but it's the best he can do.

Damian tugs at his legs insistently. "I wanna know now!"

Gritting his teeth, Jason counts to five. It's been like this all morning, ever since Damian woke him up at the earlier than normal time of 5:30AM; an hour Jason's brain still insists should signify the ending of a day, rather than the beginning of it. It's not even noon yet and he's starting to regret this.

"I can't tell you what I don't know, Damian. We'll find out when Uncle Duck gets here, okay?" He finishes zipping up the bag and turns around, disengaging Damian's hands from his jeans so he can crouch down and inspect his son's appearance. He still looks tidy enough, despite Jason having left him to his own devices with a pack of crayons and some paper for the last half an hour. "That's the whole point of a surprise."

Damian stomps his foot on the floor. His velcro Batman shoes are already on and fastened, so all Jason needs to do is slip him into his coat and hat. Dick hadn't said anything about dressing for a particular activity, so Jason's just put him in his usual going out clothes while he hopes for the best. "No! Tell me now."

"Damian, Duck'll be here any moment. Just stay patient for a little longer okay?"

Speak of the devil. Jason's phone buzzes in his back pocket and he reaches to look at the screen hopefully, just as Damian starts to whine rebelliously. "Mooommy!"

Thank God, the text confirms that Dick's waiting for them downstairs. Jason shoves his phone back in his pocket and gives his son a stern look. "Damian." Taking hold of Damian's shoulder in his hand, he squeezes his fingers in a low-pressure warning. "Enough. Go get your coat and hat."

There's a moment where he thinks Damian's about to growl at him, can see the curl of his lips beginning to pull back over his teeth, but then he relents and ducks his head down submissively instead. "Okay, mommy."

Jason sighs in relief, running his hand up and ruffling Damian's hair before kissing the top of his head as a reward. "Good boy. Now hurry up, let's not keep him waiting."

Damian runs off, leaving Jason to wonder if Roy ever has trouble like this with Lian, or if it's just alpha children who challenge their parents so much. It's not a question he's ever given much thought to before, but Jason's started to notice more and more of these little moments happening with Damian of late as he tests the boundaries of acceptable behaviour.

Not a fun thought, especially as it will presumably only get worse as he grows older.

A minute later Damian's back with his hat and coat, fidgeting as Jason fastens him into them. Jason takes his hand before swinging the overnight bag onto his shoulder and picking up his keys. He's already checked the apartment to make sure everything's locked and secure until they get home tomorrow, so they head straight downstairs without any further delay.

In the private parking garage at the base of the building, Dick's leant up against the side of Jason's of car like some pin-up model, wearing a deep Nightwing blue coat and black jeans that look practically painted on. Whoever taught Dick how to dress himself away from the fashion disasters of his youth in the intervening years between Jason's death and return to Gotham deserves some kind of prize, because his mouth feels desert dry just looking at him. Jason's forced to swallow thickly to counter the faux-parched feeling as Damian immediately tries to lunge towards Dick with a happy shout and pull his hand free of his mother's. But Jason stubbornly holds on to his son's hand and makes him walk calmly over to where his uncle is waiting instead of running. "Hey."

"Hey." Dick replies, pushing himself away from the door and running a hand through his dark hair. He must have taken a cab over to this side of town because his bike's nowhere in sight. "You look good."

Jason feels his ears start to burn at the compliment, and he feels a little clumsy as he awkwardly mumbles, "You too." with far less volume than Dick used. 

"Duck!"

Not to be forgotten, Damian lunges forwards again, and this time Jason lets him go with a resigned roll of his eyes. The toddler express impacts with Dick's legs with the force of a runaway freight train, seconds before Dick sweeps Damian up into a tight hug and kisses his cheek. 

You'd think getting to see his uncle three times in the space of a fortnight would have curbed Damian's enthusiasm some, but apparently not as his son tucks his head in happily against the older alpha's neck.

"Hey, little D." Dick hums, running his fingers over the boys back. "Did you miss me?"

"We're going for a surprise." Damian says happily, and oh, of course he's not making demands of _Dick_ to know where they're going. That's just typical, Jason thinks with small resentment. It's amazing how often Damian will misbehave for him, then be a perfect angel for everyone else.

"That's right." His boyfriend laughs (Jesus Christ, his _boyfriend_ ). "You ready, Jay?" 

"I'm ready for you to tell me what we're doing." Jason steps around them to unlock the car, trying not to show his own enthusiasm too much. "Are you driving or am I?"

Dick reaches out his hand, wriggling his fingers in answer. With another sigh Jason hands over the keys in exchange for Damian, opening the back door to get his son strapped in on his booster seat. "Stay, monster." He mutters to him, bopping Damian lightly on the nose before shutting the door again and going to climb in the front passenger seat next to Dick.

"Seriously, Dick. Where are we going?" 

"Where we going!" Damian pipes up from the back, making the plastic cow he'd left in the car last time zoom through the air like an aeroplane. 

Dick is distracted as he tries to adjust the drivers seat, looking annoyed as soon as he realises his feet don't quite reach the peddles with the way Jason has it set up. Jason doesn't bother hiding his laughter at that fact. "Oh my God, Jay. You're too tall."

"Stop avoiding the question, Dickiebird." Jason reaches forward, taking Dick's hand and guiding it to the correct lever with a smirk. The contact makes his skin tingle pleasantly, but with Damian watching behind them it's not quite as electric as it was on Monday night. "Your audience is waiting."

Finally the seat slides forwards, and Dick looks triumphant. "Okay, okay." He fastens the seatbelt around himself, then twists in the seat to grin back at Damian. "Hey, little D. What's your favourite place in Gotham?"

Suddenly, Jason knows exactly where this is going. Oh so predictable, Dickie.

Damian blinks, then brings the toy cow to his mouth for a moment as he thinks it over. "Grandpa's?"

Dick bites his lip to hide his amusement while Jason rolls his eyes. "Okay, what's your favourite place _after_ Grandpa's?"

The cow feels the full force of baby alpha teeth in its plastic flesh before Damian comes up with another answer. "... tap-easy?"

Both the adults snort, but Dick shakes his head to Jason's surprise. "You did promise..." He reminds him.

"Not today." Dick mouths back at Jason silently, before turning to Damian again. "Okay. Your _third_ favourite place, Damian. Where's that?"

Now Damian really has to think, but it finally comes to him with the kind of epiphany that Jason usually associates with old men leaping out of baths and yelling 'Eureka!'. "... zoo?"

"Wow, really? That's amazing, because guess where we're going."

A squeal loud enough to deafen Man-Bat's everywhere fills the car. "Zoo!" Damian yells, dropping the toy in his excitement. Jason hears it clatter somewhere back behind the drivers seat and resigns himself to squeezing down there later on to dig it out.

"You know," Jason says, leaning into Dick while Damian's still bouncing excitedly to himself. "He's been to the zoo twice already, it's really not that big a surprise, Dickie."

He shouldn't be caught off-guard by the way Dick turns his head, moving until his lips are brushing Jason's ear, but he is. Hot breath ghosts over his skin and makes him shiver as Dick whispers back, "Not for you, little wing." before he kisses the side of Jason's neck where hopefully Damian can't see. "Your surprise comes later."

_Fuck._

He has no idea if Dick means for that comment to sound as arousing as it does, or if it's just because Jason's body is on constant high alert around Dick now, but the words make his heart beat just that little bit faster as he hurriedly pulls away. Jason knows he's blushing, the way Dick's smirking confirms it. "Just shut up and drive, ass - uh, jerk. Fu - I mean... crap."

Jason winces as he trips up over trying not to swear in front of his young and very impressionable child, who immediately starts giggling again. "Bad word, Mommy."

"Sorry, Dami. I'll give Alfred the dollar next time I see him." Jason glares at Dick, who winks back and finally puts the car into drive.

 

*

 

The zoo hasn't changed all that much since the last time they were here, but for Damian it's still a wonderland.

He and Dick both have to hang on tight to his hands as they walk through the afternoon crowds, which are thankfully not too thick given that it's a school day. There's a couple classes on field trips, as well as the usual groups of adult visitors and parents with very young children like Jason, but since Gotham isn't exactly a popular destination for out-of-town visitors there's nowhere near the amount of traffic there would be in places like Metropolis or New York.

Anyone else might have found that saddening, but to Jason it's par for the course. He's Gotham born and bred, and less people means less potential threats for him to have to worry about, so more of his attention can be given to enjoying the day out with Dick and Damian.

They take their usual route. First to the big cats that Damian loves to gawp at, then down to the nocturnal animal house. Listening to the bats rustle their wings inside has Damian clinging tight to Dick's legs, while the two adults smile knowingly at each other over his head. 

Bats lost their mystique for Jason a long time ago, but he doesn't resent Dick buying Damian a small plush replica of one at the little gift stall outside.

The wolves occupy a good amount of time, as do the giraffes with their long necks and sedate expressions as they calmly chew on leaves. The rhino's and elephant's bored Damian before, so Jason guides Dick to avoid them; or at least he does until Dick makes a sad face that wins him over and they go see the elephants anyway. You can take the boy out of the circus... Damian really likes the polar bears though, and they spend a whole half hour watching them dive in and out of their pool before grabbing a chillidog each (minus the chilli for Damian) and wandering down to the petting zoo corner.

"Seriously, when are you going to let him get a pet, Jay?" Dick asks, sucking chilli sauce off his thumb while Damian giggles over the rabbits and guinea pigs currently hopping around him under the supervision of a zoo worker. 

"When I figure he's responsible enough for one." Jason shrugs. He had to finish off the last half of Damian's hot dog for him; an occurrence that would make Jason seriously question Damian's genetics if he didn't vividly remember pushing him out, because hell if a kid of his will ever leave a dog behind. "Pet's are a lot of work, Dick. And I don't exactly have room for a dog."

"But look how good he is with them." Following the line of Dick's finger, Jason would have to agree. He's more than amazed at how gentle Damian is with the small animals considering how rough he can be with his toys at home. His son coos softly as a rabbit snuggles into his lap, stroking it between its long floppy ears. "You could get him a cat, they don't take a lot of work."

"No they just shit in the house. But hey, if you want to come round to clean the litter box every day, be my guest." Jason snorts as Dick gently elbows him, then jumps as that arm slips around his waist. He looks round to find Dick wearing that same warm smile that was Jason's undoing in the beginning, and it feels good to be so close, to be held the same as all the other couples around them seem to be doing. "Dick..."

Dick shakes his head, leaning in and just brushing his mouth against Jason's cheek with a sigh. "We really need to tell him about us too."

"We tell him, we as good as tell Bruce." Jason murmurs back, trying not squirm self-consciously. He's pretty sure Dick just slid his hand into his pocket and it's incredibly distracting. He keeps his head turned towards the little paddock so he doesn't lose sight of Damian.

There's another sigh, against his ear this time. "I don't want to have to keep hiding us, Jay. It's already driving me crazy that I can't just do things with you without worrying about someone else finding out."

"Yeah. But are you ready for Bruce to know?" Jason grimaces just at the thought. They haven't even been together a full week, but he's not surprised that Dick's chafing at the bit to be open about this relationship, that's just who he is. "He'll kill me."

"Kill you?" He feels Dick's head pull back, and when Jason peers round at him out of the corner of his eye he's shaking his head grimly. "Jay, you've got it the wrong way round. If he's going to be mad at either of us, it'll be _me_.

Jason stares at him, confused. "Dick," he says slowly, "You're the golden boy. I'm the fuck up. Why the hell would he be mad at you?"

"Oh my God. Jay, you don't -" Dick takes a deep breath. "I told you the other day, he's protective over you. And -" He cuts Jason off as he opens his mouth to make a disparaging remark, "Yes, part of it is down to you being an omega. It's instinct, he can't help it. I mean, you should have seen when Tim first started dating Kon, I think he actually started considering the merits of a Bat-chastity belt with inbuilt kryptonite."

Jason winces in sympathy right there. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." No wonder Tim has so many complexes with Bruce breathing down his neck, Jason thinks. Meanwhile Dick keeps talking, "It's the same with you. You know, when..." Dick hesitates, the oddest expression coming over his face.

"What?" Jason asks suspiciously.

Dick licks his lips, "Do you... uh, do you remember when you got your first heat?"

Okay, that just catapulted this conversation into being one Jason really does not want to be having in public. Or ever. The incident Dick's referring to comes flowing back to him with embarrassing clarity, and it's all he can do to nod, let alone say anything about it.

Not long after turning fourteen, Jason had woken up to his body being ravaged as his biological clock switched on with a vengeance. With no prior experience - or any other omega's around to advise him - he had absolutely no idea what to do, and so, after taking an ill-advised cold shower in an attempt to fight the heat back, he'd headed downstairs to seek Alfred out for help; only to discover that Dick had chosen that particular day to make a surprise visit to the manor and was hanging out in the kitchen just as Jason got there.

It's the exact moment when Jason can pinpoint his adolescent crush on Dick as having graduated from vaguely fuzzy, mostly innocent feelings, to full-blown 'fuck me till I can't feel my legs' intensity.

In other words it had been completely, utterly humiliating, and Jason had always figured it was the same way for Dick as well, since he'd fairly fled the house after their accidental collision.

"Okay, so." Dick doesn't need Jason to verbally clarify anything; the red hot blush on his face probably tells all about the strength of his recollection. "So after that, uh, Bruce came and found me before I could leave the cave and..."

"Oh God." Jason groans, knowing what Dick is about to say.

The alpha grimaces. "Yeah. He gave me a talk basically warning me off ever coming near the manor again while you were in heat."

"Jesus Christ."

"Uh huh."

"That is just -" Jason shakes his head, flabbergasted but completely unable to vocalise his horror the way he wants to. "He is un-fucking-believable. It's you, you'd never have -" He can't even say it, the implication is too horrible.

Dick squeezes him tighter against his side. "I know. And he knows that too, we talked it out a couple weeks later, but it's..." He licks his lips, "It's instinct, Jay. He didn't mean it like that, but when you were in heat you were vulnerable so far as he was concerned, and any other alpha was a threat. Even me. And now after everything else that's happened -"

"Instinct can go fuck itself." Interrupts Jason, teeth gritted as he pulls away from Dick. "The whole fucking alpha bullshit, it can all go to hell. Just because I'm an omega doesn't mean I need to be protected." He won't think about Talia, he _won't_. "For fuck's sake, he's the one who's always telling us that we're more than that. That if we want to be better than those around us, we have to be able to overcome the influence of our base nature."

"I know, Jay," Dick rubs the back of his head. "But it's not that simple, those instincts are part of us, and they're not always bad. Sometimes -"

"No." Jason snaps back at him, "I'm done with this conversation, Dick. All it's doing is pissing me off, today's supposed to be a good day."

Dick catches him before he can go any further to collect Damian from the pile of cute furry animals he's surrounded himself with, minus one distinctly un-fluffy tortoise. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Jay. I didn't mean to... I just..." He takes a deep breath. "I just want you, all of you. All the time. I want to do things with you without worrying about how someone else may react." His thumbs brushes over Jason's wrist, across his pulse point and up under his sleeve. "But we can talk about it later. Whenever you're ready to tell him."

In the pen Damian looks up, his jade eyes focus on his mother and Dick and he smiles, wide and happy. He can't see the conflict going on inside Jason's head, or read the faint note of his distress on the air across the distance between them with the smell of all the animals and hay surrounding him. Jason's grateful, because usually when Damian perceives his mother to be upset it's about the time he starts biting people.

God, Jason hates himself for the way Dick can almost make him melt from words alone, breaking past the remnants of old rage and poisonous bile inside him with simple honesty. _I just want you, all of you_. 

"It's okay." He forces himself to say, breathing past the residual anger. In and out, remember the breathing exercises your doctor gave you. "It's fine, Dick. I know it has to happen eventually, just let me have a little time before the inevitable shit storm kicks off, all right? Especially today."

After all, it is the first date he's ever had. The first proper one, because Jason won't count the midnight run, nor the spontaneous sex on his couch no matter what Dick says.

Dick's suddenly there again, up against his back, resting his chin on Jason's shoulder as they both watch Damian together. Jason should push him away, because it's unmistakably intimate, except that he can't. His body won't listen to him, and he tries to explain himself by thinking there's no way Damian will read the significance of it at his age. 

Lips brush the side of his neck. "You got it, Jay. This is your day."

Then they're gone, and the world bleeds back into focus as the thirty minutes-until-closing announcement comes over the loudspeaker system of the zoo. Jason sucks in a sharp breath, remembers where he is, and climbs over the little gate to scoop Damian up, ignoring the wide (and envious) eyes of the mousy omega attendant when she looks between him and Dick.

Small and smug, a part of him is viciously pleased by that reaction as Dick offers him a hand back over the fence.

"Mommy, no!" Damian squirms in his arms, growling as he fights to get back to the animals. "Go back!"

"We can't stay, little man. They're closing."

"Wanna stay!" 

"And I said _no_." Jason turns Damian around so he's pressed with his face against Jason's chest. He wraps his arms around the toddler tightly, holding his limbs in place to keep him from wriggling too much.

Damian's face has started to turn red, and Jason grimaces. That's not a good sign. "Dami..." He says warningly, but it's too late. To the side, Jason can see Dick's eyes start to widen in the face of the inevitable. 

Well, if Dick's serious about this relationship then he's also going to have get used to the fact that dealing with young children isn't always sparkles and rainbows. Their emotions can turn on a dime, and when they get grumpy they throw fits. Damian is no exception.

Other parent's, mostly omega's, cast Jason sympathetic glances as he strides past them with a snarling and snapping Damian in his arms. Dick trails behind him awkwardly, lost on what to do while Jason huffs , running his hand up and down his struggling son's back before settling his fingers over the back of his neck. Usually the best option is to keep Damian restrained and let him wear himself out during one of his tantrums, reminding him that no matter what he wants, Jason is both his mother and higher in the pack order than he is.

Eventually it works. By the time they get back to the car Damian's mostly settled down from screaming to soft, quiet sobs of exhaustion. Jason gives in to his instinct to comfort him then, a soft rumbling purr easing out of his throat while he waits for Dick to unlock the vehicle.

"Is he okay?" He asks, watching Jason settle Damian into the car again.

"He's fine, he just wore himself out with all the excitement, I think. He woke up pretty early today." This time Jason's going to sit in the back of the car with his son, rather than in the front with Dick. He wants to be close enough to reassure him at a moments notice, since Damian's still red-faced and sniffling occasionally. 

Jason knows that will wear off, but parenting is one aspect of life where he will never deny his own instinct (the hypocrisy of that practice given his opinion of Bruce's behaviour towards him in similar circumstances is something Jason forcibly ignores). "Dick, you need to tell me where we're going next. I know you're dedicated to this whole surprise thing, but this time I seriously need to know."

The most powerfully maternal parts of him are demanding a return to his den, where he knows he and his pup will be safe. Dick's intended location is an unknown, and therefore, in the wake of Damian's tantrum, starting to pluck at the strings of his paranoia.

He can see the flicker of disappointment and then understanding on Dick's face before he nods. "The penthouse."

Jason's head whips round so fast that he gives himself vertigo. Incredulously, he asks, "The _penthouse_. Bruce's penthouse?" 

Another nod, and Dick pulls out the keycard to the penthouse's private elevator from his pocket to show him. "I may have, uh, implied I needed space away from Bruce tonight. He is being overbearing at the moment with everything that's going on. I didn't say anything about you though, don't worry."

Jason doesn't understand. Why there of all places? What on earth could Dick have planned that they needed to be in the penthouse rather than in Jason's home. "Dick, what -"

With a soft sigh Dick shrugs, Jason can recognise it as him giving up the ghost of anymore surprises. "Because I thought, after Damian goes to bed, you and I could take advantage of the gym. Get a start on that training we talked about before."

Incredulously, Jason stares at him. His mouth actually falls open for a second, before shutting again with an audible snap. "Wait... your... your surprise date idea is to let me beat you up?"

"Let you _try_ to beat me up, little wing." Under the weight of his gaze Dick starts to look sheepish, then nervous. "Was that a bad idea?"

Jason shuts the door on Damian's side of the car with a final caress to his soft cheek. Then he straightens up and steps forwards, crowding up into Dick's space so the alpha has to lean back against the car. Dick's eyes flicker to the side and then back at him, caramel-scent cautiously optimistic. "Jay?"

"Oh Dickiebird," Jason says with a pleased hum, "You got me _exactly_ right."

The smile bursts back onto Dick's face like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day. "So does that mean we're still on?"

"Fucking drive, you moron." Their noses brush against each other, but that's all Jason gives him before walking round to the other side of the car and climbing into the back seat with Damian. Dick seems stunned for a moment, but then he's yanking open the door and jumping into the drivers seat with open enthusiasm to start the engine.

While not ideal, the penthouse is hardly the worst place to take Damian after a tantrum. He's already familiar with it, since Jason lived there with him for a few weeks while their own place was being set up as a sort of half-way house away from the manor. That familiarity, plus his exhaustion and the blanket Jason brought laden with his own scent, should be enough to get him to settle down without too much fussing.

Jason fastens his own seatbelt, mostly for Damian's benefit to lead by good example, and eases his fingers through his son's hair, starting to purr again as a soft whimper for his attention sounds in his ear. "I'm here, Dami."

"Wan' Daw."

He pulls the toy out of the bag and hands it over to Damian just as the car sets into motion, and Jason gets a flash of Dick's dark eyes looking at him through the rearview mirror before he lets himself relax into the drive, trying to stop his thoughts from running too far into the night ahead.

 

*

 

While Jason puts Damian down for bed, Dick cleans up the plates from the light supper they'd shared after reaching the penthouse.

The task helps him focus away from his impatience at waiting for Jason to come back, as well as the part of him that was put out by not being allowed to go assist Jason in getting his nephew to sleep. On a intellectual level Dick understands that his presence might have the opposite effect on Damian than what Jason wanted, but on the other... well, pack instincts, they could be complicated.

He stows the plates and glasses in the dishwasher, starts the wash cycle, then stretches and wanders over to the expansive windows to look out over Gotham. The glass runs all the way from the ceiling to the floor, offering an incredible view of the city in all it's night time glory, and if it weren't for the fact that Dick knew the windows were reflective on the outside to stop anyone from being able to spy inside he'd worry. 

Bruce has always been thorough when it comes to security. That's why Dick had to swing by here this morning before he went over to Jason's place so that he could check for any new camera's or microphone's that Bruce might have installed since the last time he stayed here and disable them. Considering that he already informed Alfred that he would be staying here tonight (and that Jason had readily confessed to Dick that Alfred had already figured them out) it probably shouldn't come across as too suspicious. He knew he was right in assuming Alfred would have their backs on this.

"Enjoying the view?"

Dick turns at the sound of Jason's voice, and the soft whisper of his bare feet on the carpeted floor. He's surprised to see Jason's already changed into sweats, considering that he hadn't known what Dick's plan was for tonight until a couple hours ago. They must be his sleeping clothes, Jay's not exactly the type for traditional pyjamas as far as Dick can tell; he'll have to give him the spare set he'd stowed here earlier as something clean to sleep in instead once they're done. "Yeah, it's really something. This is one of the highest buildings in the city. Is Damian asleep?"

"Like a log. And I know." Jason steps into place at his side, that soft look of longing back on his face as he looks out through the glass. "Bet you could do an awesome divebomb off here."

An instant grin comes to Dick's face, "You can. Though preferably with a glider."

"Yes, Dick, I know. We're not all suicidal adrenaline-junkies like you."

Dick laughs and leans in, nudging his head first against Jason's before slipping a hand around his back to cup the omega's hip. The curve of it fits easily into his palm, and that gives Dick all kinds of perverted ideas for another time. "Don't knock it till you've tried it, little wing."

"Maybe some day." Jason turns his head, teal eyes hooded under his naturally curled eyelashes. The tip of his nose brushes Dick's cheek. "You know we're alone now, right?"

... or maybe those perverted thoughts could come to light right now.

Making a show of looking around, Dick nods in thoughtful agreement. "Hey yeah, you're right. No munchkin's or other family in sight." He turns his body, pulling Jason too so that they're facing each other and Dick has to tilt his head up just a little more to make eye-contact. "Think we should do something about it?"

Jason's scent is heavy, interested, cloying up his nostrils and into his brain. Dick's breath catches in his chest as Jason takes the opportunity to make the first move this time, shoving their mouths together in a kiss that's far more hungry than tender. His hands automatically slip under the back of Jason's shirt as Dick steps into him with a groan, skimming his fingers across both smooth and scarred skin as one particular piece of him perks up with significant interest at Jason's proximity.

"I think..." Jason says breathily a moment later, when their mouths part and there's all kinds of interesting chemicals in the air, "That you should keep your promise."

Then he's twisting away, out of Dick's arms and strolling towards the door at the opposite side of the room, leaving Dick gaping and distinctly uncomfortable in his wake. "Jay, what - c'mon..."

Pausing at the doorway, Jason looks back at him with a smirk. "What? Your ass isn't gonna kick itself. Get a move on, Dickie."

 _Oh my God._ he may have created a monster. Dick spends a good minute trying to think distinctly unsexy thoughts before hurrying to change into his own work out clothes and meet Jason in the penthouse's gym. Once there he wishes he'd moved faster, because it looks like Jason's already put himself through his stretches and that's a sight Dick would have paid to see.

Quickly, he distracts himself from that thought by doing a basic warm-up routine of his own, nothing too strenuous, while Jason explores the gym equipment around the edges of the room, as well as the open square space where they'll be sparring. There are no weapons up here, not when Bruce sometimes brings his date's and other civilians into the upper floors, but they don't need them. Weapons are a little more advanced than what Dick wants to start Jason back off with today.

"You finished yet, princess?" Jason says somewhere to his right, and Dick sighs as he pulls out of his final stretch. "I thought you said you were the princess?"

Jason shrugs, stepping into the centre of the mat. His cheeks look a little pinker than they did five minutes ago. "Nah, I wouldn't look as good in a dress. Mostly I'm the guy who's going to take you down, Nightwing."

Allowing himself an indulgent smile, Dick moves to mirror Jason's ready stance. Feet spaced a foot apart and hands raised into loose fists in front of him. "Careful, little wing. Don't make promises you can't keep."

"We going by old-school rules?" Jason says, as if he hadn't heard that last part. 

Dick can read the excited energy coiled in his muscles as clear as day, can smell the anticipation in the air as they face off against each other. Old-school rules, no blows to the face - smart when you couldn't risk a mark showing in your public identity - and the first to pin the other wins: hearing that excites Dick a hell of a lot more than it probably should. "Sure."

"Good."

Predictably Jason lunges forwards as soon as Dick confirms it, but it's clear from the offset that it's not the bullheaded charge that it's meant to look like. There's a calculated look in Jason's eyes, and the initial swing of his fist is just a little too clumsy to be believable, what with how Dick saw him take down those kids last Sunday. He's playing it smart and testing Dick before he goes in for a real fight.

Jason's rusty, but he's not stupid.

Dick steps back from that first blow, ducks the next, then twists out of the way of the kick Jason uses as his follow-through. In retaliation he throws out a quick jab of his own at Jason's head, counting time as Jason hops back to avoid it, resting his weight on the balls of his feet. "You gonna pussy-foot around all day, Jay?" He says, unable to help egging him on.

"Just getting the lay of the land, Dick." And there's something familiar about that turn of phrase in Jason's voice that ticks in Dick's brain, except his little wing gives him no time to puzzle it out further. Jason lunges again, this time for real, and it's so much faster than before that Dick actually has to focus rather than go through the motions to avoid it.

Back when Jason was Robin they hadn't sparred much. Dick was too often away with the Titan's, leaving Jason's training almost entirely to Bruce and it shows. Jason fights a hell of a lot more like Batman than the rest of them, though that might be in part down to the size he grew to. He's not small enough to play it fast and wiry like Tim, nor does he have Dick's natural grace and acrobatic skill; there's plenty of assassin in his style - like Cass - as well as more that Dick can't immediately identify, but as a whole Jason is very much Bruce's child. No showy or wasteful movements, he just plants his feet and _goes_.

It makes them opposite's in style, as Dick flips and weaves, never standing still, not even for a moment. The contrast is what makes it all the more fun, but despite all that the rust is there. Dick can see it immediately in the way that Jason is sometimes just a fraction too slow, the way he hesitates or overreaches, like he's forgotten just how much his body is capable of - or what his body is no longer completely capable of. He's still fast and strong, but it's not the cutting edge, peak fitness that their lifestyle demands.

Bruce was right. Damn his approach, but he was right.

The first pin goes to Dick, as does the second and third. With Jason down on his stomach and his hands twisted up behind his back as Dick straddles his legs. He can see his chest heaving, and the position does nothing to calm some of Dick's underlying instincts that have nothing to do with fighting. "Had enough yet, Jay?" 

"Nng, damn it. One more," Jason mutters, straining as he twists his head to look back at Dick. "One more round. I can do this."

"You don't have to push yourself, you know." Dick cautions, tearing his eyes away from the bare skin of Jason's neck to meet his gaze. His curls are mussed across his forehead, the white streak tangled in amongst the black and Dick wants to comb it loose, then use it to bend Jason's head back to bare his throat. "We can build up to more slowly. Right now we're just getting an idea of where -"

"One. More. Round." There's something in Jason's voice, steel under the flushed skin and dark turn of his eyes. His tongue darts out, licks his lips, and when Dick takes another sniff he's sure he reads more than just sweat in the air.

Concerns aside, the aggression is really hot.

"One more." Dick finds himself agreeing for better reasons than that, or so he tells himself as he lets go of Jason's arms and climbs up off of him. He offers Jason a hand back up onto his feet, which he takes, and that's more than he would have done if they were doing this even a year ago.

They each take three paces back from the other and get ready to go again.

There's something different this time, something in the air as Jason makes his approach in a way that's slower and more measured than before. Dick can see Jason sizing him up and he moves accordingly, forcing Jason to circle round as he searches for an opening while trying to stay focused away from the details that have nothing to do with the fight.

Like Jason's feet, bare on the mats. The spread of his toes as he rests his weight, loose and easy on the balls of his feet. The glisten of sweat where it's pooled against his clavicle, right in the hollow space between where the two bones meet. Dick darts his tongue out against his lips, tasting his own sweat as he fails not to imagine what it would be like to lick away Jason's.

He feels like he did that night on Gotham's rooftops, with the urge to chase, to pin Jason down and _take_.

A soft sound signifies Jason's attack, and Dick bends back, leaning under the sweep of his right arm at his shoulder. The left hand follows, striking out again and Dick ducks that one too, letting Jason drive him back across the floor with a series of punches and kicks that come blindingly fast. Dick waits until he's almost up against the wall before retaliating, vaulting backwards and planting his feet against the vertical surface, using it as a springboard to leap over Jason's head and land on his hands behind him. He kicks backwards with his feet, connecting with Jason's shoulders to send him careening forwards into the wall himself.

He hears Jason swear as he catches himself with his hands, stopping the impact from imparting too much pain. That's good, because this is only sparring, they're not here to cause each other real injury, and Dick reminds himself of that as he falls back onto his feet and drops down into a couch, sweeping his leg round at Jason's ankles.

Jason, anticipating it, cartwheels over the sweep and to the side, putting enough space between him and Dick to recover some of his equilibrium. He turns just as Dick spins, bringing his leg up in a high kick. Jason's fingers close around his ankle, pulling to the side in an attempt to throw Dick off-balance and make him fall, but instead of fighting the pull Dick goes with it, twisting in mid-air and hooking his other leg around Jason's midriff to bring him down as well.

They end up on the floor, forced to wrestling now in such close-quarters. Jason knows better than to let Dick get back up again and lunges to grab him by his wrists before he can spring back onto his feet - and unlike the previous times Jason tried it, this time he succeeds.

The world tilts as Dick is rolled onto his back, with his hands pinned up above his head and Jason's weight straddling his hips. Jason huffs a soft growl as he leans down, face only inches away from Dick's own. "I win."

There are ways out of this hold. Dick knows them, could employ them. He could keep this fight on for at least another five minutes.

But he doesn't want to.

Dick lets himself sink down against the floor, going limp beneath Jason. "You win, little wing." he agrees, licking his lips. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"

There's another rise of pink flushed flesh across Jason's cheeks, and Dick wonders idly if he can feel the semi hard-on Dick's been sporting for longer than he cares to think about in this position. It's a distant thought, especially when his own senses are more focused on the smell of what might be slick between Jason's thighs, and the evidence of his own erection against the flat muscle of Dick's stomach.

Sensing that Jason needs one last push, Dick goes against his own instinct and tilts his head back, playing the traditional omega role as he bares his throat in invitation. Unnatural as that feels, the reward of Jason's mouth on his own a second later makes it worth it.

Dick groans openly into the kiss, pushing back against Jason's lips and parting his own, flicking out his tongue to urge him to open up. A shudder runs through the larger man above him, and as soon as Jason's mouth is open Dick thrusts his tongue forward, hungrily taking the kiss for his own. Jason tastes just as intoxicating as he did before and Dick can't stop the hungry growl from erupting out of the back of his throat as he rolls his hips up against Jason's ass.

"Dick." Jason chokes as he pulls back, lips slick-wet from saliva. His fingers are still steel bands around Dick's wrists, and that's hot. It's rare Dick's ever known an omega who would and _could_ hold him down. "I..."

Dick bucks his hips up again, startling a moan from Jason's throat, and finally his grip breaks. "Jason..." he hums, sitting up to set his mouth to the omega's neck, tongue running up over the scent glands he'd used to drive him crazy the first and last time they'd had sex.

Jason turns his head to the side, obliging the path of Dick's tongue. Dick knows from experience how good it feels to have your scent glands manipulated this way, and there's benefit in there for the giver as well as the receiver, because up this close he's treated to the full-blown concentration of Jason's scent, rich and thick like dark honeyed wine. "Fuck. That... God _damn_."

"Yeah." Dick shudders, moving his hands to Jason's thighs, sliding them up and down in soothing motion before settling his fingers again on the alluring curve of Jason's hips. "You want... bedroom?"

It would be more comfortable by far than the hard floor, if only Dick could persuade himself to stop touching and kissing Jason to get there. He swipes his tongue up under his ear, catches the lobe in his mouth as Jason grinds down against him, startling Dick into letting out a muffled moan. Dick slips his hands slip under his shirt and lifts, tugging insistently until Jason gets the message and raises his arms up, allowing Dick to pull the garment off and toss it to one side.

"Don't care." Jason mutters, breath hitching when Dick goes back to kissing his throat, before catching his lips again. Dick slides his hands up over Jason's stomach and then his chest, touching skin roughened by unfamiliar scars. He presses his thumbs against Jason's nipples and smirks into the kiss when he feels him falter.

"Just thinking of your comfort, little wing." Dick hums, rubbing circles against them,

"Oh yeah?" Jason raises his eyebrows, looking adorably flustered. "You sure that's all you're thinking about?"

Dick laughs, grinning, "Among other things."

"Whatever, let's go then."

Getting to one of the bedrooms is easier said than done. Progress halted by Dick's inability to let go of Jason for a second, to stop kissing him for even an instant. Somewhere along the way he loses his tank top, making a mental note he hopes he'll remember in the morning of where it is so he can pick up their discarded clothing before anyone else comes in to find it, and gets really distracted when Jason takes the initiative to use his scent gland manipulation trick against him.

"Fuck, fuck, Jay." Dick groans, head tilted back against the hall wall as Jason's tongue sweeps up the side of his neck. He's always been a fast learner in everything; sex apparently no exception to that rule. Dick feels the world blur as the tip of Jason's tongue gets up behind his ear, and has to bite down hard on his lip to keep from moaning aloud until they're inside the bedroom he's taken for his own tonight - two doors down from the one Damian's sleeping in. 

Fumbling for the door handle next to him, Dick wraps his arm around Jason's bare waist to pull him through once it's open. They stumble inside like a pair of horny teenagers, minus the giggling, and Dick shuts the door behind them with his foot since he doesn't want to stop touching Jason, not when his instincts are practically screaming at him to _takeholdkeep_ the gorgeous and willing omega in his arms.

God knows what kind of things his scent is broadcasting to Jason right now, but he can certainly read what Jason's scent is screaming at _him_ in return. Scent isn't consent though, so Dick forces himself to hold back as he guides Jason to sit down on the bed, then kneels between his legs on the floor.

"Dick, what..." Jason's hair is mussed worse than Dick's ever seen it, sticking up in thick tufts of curls going every which way. Dick thinks idly of combing his hands through it, then using the hold to guide the omega where he wants him; all while Jason looks down at him with kiss bruised lips and glazed eyes.

It would be so good, so easy -

Dick swallows hard. It's definitely time to lay down some ground rules before they get carried away and end up doing something they both might regret.

"What do you want, Jay?" He murmurs, running his hands up from Jason's ankles to his calves, kissing his thigh through the soft cotton fabric of his sweatpants. "What can I do?"

His eyes track upwards across Jason's torso, mapping his body with greedy eyes; everything from the faintest hints of faded stretch marks on his belly to scars he doesn't know the stories behind; one's earned by Jason after his resurrection. There are only two he knows the origins of, the deep puckered stab wound on Jason's right shoulder, and worse, the thin slice across the left side of his neck made by a batarang.

"Shit, that... that's a loaded question, Dick."

Dick smirks, leaning in and rubbing his cheek against the inside of Jason's thigh. "I know." He thinks it over for a moment, eyes closed as he just breathes in the scent of him. Up this close it's impossible to ignore that delicious heady smell, and between his own thighs Dick's cock is now hard as a rock, straining against the loose fabric of his boxers. The anticipation alone has him feeling ready to pop at a moments notice. "But I need you to answer it, little wing."

Jason's fingers slip into his hair and Dick lets out a light pleased hum at the contact. "Just..." He hears Jason swallow thickly, "You. You asshole. I want you. Like before."

"Okay." Dick murmurs, nodding against his leg. He can work with that answer.

Sliding forwards, Dick pushes deeper between Jason's thighs. When he looks up Jason is staring back down at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he presses a kiss over the hard line of his erection. "Fuck..."

Moving his hand from Jason's calves, Dick raises himself on his knees and sets them instead to hips that curve a little wider than a male beta or alpha's would, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his sweats and underwear. "Can I take these off?" He asks, before putting his mouth to one of Jason's nipples. "I got an idea."

For a moment Dick thinks Jason isn't going to do it, then reflects that doing what he's doing is probably distracting him more than a little (if the clench of fingers in his hair is anything to go by), but finally Jason does as he's asked, lifting his hips to let Dick draw the last of his clothing down over his ass and legs. With the lure of Jason finally naked in front of him there's no way in hell Dick can stop himself from pulling back and looking.

"God, Jay, you're gorgeous." He whispers, licking his lips.

Above him Jason's face looks redder than ever, his thighs catching Dick's ribs in a vice as he self-consciously tries to bring them closer together. "Shut up. Have you seen yourself."

"You are." Dick insists, shaking his head in wonder at Jason's denial and ignoring the attempt to deflect his compliment back on himself. "You're amazing." He runs his hands up and down Jason's incredible thighs, rubbing the firm muscle in soothing circular motions as he moves in to kiss him again. "Can't stop thinking about all the things I want to do to you."

Jason inhales sharply. "Shit. What... what things...?"

Dick grins against his mouth, unable to stop the predatory curve shaping his lips. "Like kissing you all over. Putting my mouth _everywhere_ and using it to drive you crazy. Getting you feeling so good you can't even _think_ anymore." His hands slip round to the inside of Jason's thighs, creeping upwards as his voice drops a few octaves to a low rumble, like the herald of a distant thunderstorm. "God, then..."

Jason sounds like he's choking on thin air as he asks, "Then?"

"Then I'd fuck you, nice and slow and deep, get my teeth in your neck." His fingers brush against the underside of Jason's thick cock, then lower to where the slick is literally leaking out of him. "Hold you so close you'd feel every inch of me when I knot you."

"Jesus Christ." Jason whispers, pupils blown wide with lust, "Y'know..." He swallows visibly, "For a guy who uses the word 'courting' seriously, you're pretty damn filthy, Dick."

Dick lets out a groan that has nothing to do with arousal as he runs his finger over the heated entrance to Jason's body. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

Jason's hand, the one still wrapped in his hair, clenches almost painfully tight. "Not in this... oh, shit... you..."

"What's that?" Dick hums, smirking as he barely pushes the tip of his index finger inside him. "Got something to say, Jay?"

" _Dick_." Jason moans. His head tips back, and never one to miss an opportunity, Dick sets his mouth to his neck, kissing over his throat. "Don't... don't stop."

"I won't." He promises. He's had about all he can stand of teasing anyway. Dick nuzzles in closer, teasing Jason with the edges of his teeth without actually biting down, mindful about leaving marks where others can see them as he slides his finger deeper inside. The hot wet give of Jason's muscles around the digit makes Dick shiver. "God, you're so wet, Jay. Not even in heat and so wet for me."

Jason looks like he wants to respond with a biting comment, something sharp enough to scorch Dick's ears clean off the side of his head, but the easy glide of the finger in and out of him effectively cuts that off, releasing in its place a choked-off moan. A weak "Fucker" is all Jason manages, blushing deep as his eyelids shutter.

"You want another?" It's not like the first time, when Jason came just from the initial push of a single finger inside him (a moment Dick will remember for as long as he lives), but that's more than okay, because this time Dick wants to draw it out and feel as much of Jason as the omega is willing to give him. He starts to kiss down his chest, detouring to his shoulder to kiss over the puckered scar tissue left by Deathstroke with a low growl rumbling in his chest.

If Slade or Talia or any of them ever try to touch him again -

"C'mon." Jason groans, derailing Dick's train of thought as he leans further back on the bed, palm sliding back across the sheets; the change in angle making it easier for Dick to work his finger inside him. There's fresh sweat beading on his skin, covering up the stale scent from their workout, and Dick licks it up from his chest with his tongue as his mouth slides lower. It's good enough as permission for him to draw back and then push a second finger inside Jason.

Dick's mind stumbles when he thrusts both together, caught on the tighter feeling of hot muscle pressing down around them, and the way Jason's slick is starting to run down over his hand, gathering in his palm. It's all Dick can do not to concentrate longingly on the way it would feel to fuck Jason with his cock instead of his hand, but he hasn't been given that permission yet; Jason hasn't _asked_ for it yet, and until he does it's off the table. "You feel amazing, little wing." He mutters, "So hot and tight, I just want..."

"Nngh... Dick... I... I can't..."

"I know," Dick hurries to assure him, "I know, Jay. It's okay." He curls his fingers a little as he thrusts them in and out of his hot cunt, making sure the pads of his fingertips drag across sensitive nerves before bending his head down and taking Jason's cock in his mouth.

This time there's a muffled shout, the soft thump of Jason's back hitting the mattress as he pulls his supporting hand away from the bed covers and claps it across his mouth - or at least that's what Dick thinks he's done, since he can't exactly look up to see at the moment, focused as he is on what he's doing. Dick shuffles himself back a little on his knees, swallowing around Jason's length as he bobs his head up and down in time with the easy roll of his fingers. Jason pulls his hair painfully tight in response, and Dick moans at the feeling as he reaches down to palm his own erection through his sweatpants.

"Dick, _shit_ , your mouth... I'm gonna -"

Humming low in acknowledgement, Dick redoubles his efforts. The taste of Jason's pre-cum sits heavy on his tongue as he licks at the slit in the tip of his penis, then slides his mouth back down the whole length so that his nose brushes against the wiry curls of hair at the base. At the same moment Dick worms a third finger inside him, gaining an instantaneous reaction in the form of another stilted cry as Jason's body yields into the extra stretch.

The salty taste of semen floods the back of his throat, and Dick swallows it down as a fresh coating of slick covers his hand and slides down his wrist to the accompaniment of Jason's muscles tightening furiously around his fingers. He has to take his other hand away from his own cock to hold Jason's hips in place so that he doesn't buck himself off the bed, keeping his mouth around the omega until he's sure Jason's done. Only then does Dick pull away, letting his cock slip free with a wet pop from between his lips. "Feel good, little wing?"

Its been a while since Dick last did that, and his voice sounds terribly hoarse as a result.

"Asshole, what the hell..." Jason lets out a weak whine as Dick rolls the fingers he still has inside him again, coaxing him through the last pulses of his orgasm. "Oh God, you..." His hand pulls insistently in Dick's hair, tugging him upwards. "Get up here. Get the fuck up here right now."

"So demanding." Dick smirks, finally pulling his fingers free of the greedy clench of Jason's cunt around them. Jason whines again at the loss but doesn't stop what he's doing, forcing Dick to climb up onto the bed next to him. He looks gloriously debauched, gaze hazy, curls rumpled as he rolls over onto his side, catching Dick's chin in his hand and kissing him hard. 

"Jay..." Dick gasps when Jason finally releases him. Compared to the clumsiness of Jason's kisses at the beginning of the week he's almost a pro now, pushing his tongue deep enough into Dick's mouth that it feels like he's trying to lick the taste of himself from his tonsils. "God, I need -"

"C'mere." Jason's hand lets go of his hair, joining its brother in worming Dick's pants and boxers down off his hips. A second later both of them are on his cock as Jason pushes one of his legs between Dick's own. The alpha gasps at the feeling of strong fingers stroking over him. "My turn to take care of you, pretty bird."

"Jay." he swallows thickly, pushing his hips forwards into that touch. "God, Jay." Dick turns his head and presses it against Jason's shoulder. He's so close, so close. "I want..." he grazes his teeth over smooth skin, gripping at Jason's waist with a hand wet with slick. " _Please_."

"Don't bite me." Jason orders, swallowing hard as he cups Dick's balls with his left hand, letting the right tug at his cock, fast and hard until Dick can't take it anymore. He rolls his hips forwards, thrusting through the hot circle of Jason's fingers, growling and grinding the head of his cock against the soft skin of the omega's stomach until he comes messily, fighting with every inch of his being not to turn his head and sink his teeth into Jason's neck.

This time Dick doesn't have to ask Jason not to take his hand away, he keeps it there by his own initiative. Thank God, because the swell of his knot without any pressure constraining it would be unbearable right now, and while not what Dick truly craves the rough press of Jason's palm combined with the smell of his come covering his stomach makes up for it; satisfying his instinct to mark and own without crossing Jason's boundaries.

They lay like that for a while, catching their breath with tangled limbs and soft kisses exchanged between them. Dick is surprised when Jason, suddenly looking self-conscious and shy once more as the afterglow fades, ducks his head down, pressing his face in against his neck so that his hair tickles Dick's chin. Never one to pass up the opportunity for cuddling, Dick obligingly wraps his arms around Jason's back and holds him close, rubbing his fingers in small circles between his shoulder blades.

"Stay with me tonight." He whispers as soon as he trusts his tongue to do so. After his knot has gone down and Jason's hand leaves his cock to press against his chest. 

"Dick..."

"Please." Dick kisses the top of Jason's head, burying his nose into his hair. "I'll set an alarm if you want me to, make sure we're up before Damian is. Just... stay here with me, Jay."

Tension shoots through Jason's shoulders at the request, and in turn guilt stabs through Dick at the war going on inside him. He shouldn't have asked, it's unfair to ask, but at the same time a selfish part of him feels like it shouldn't be so huge a deal for Jason to stay here through the night considering what they've just done together. If they can have sex, then surely they can share a bed.

He's on the verge of taking the words back when Jason beats him to the punch. "Okay."

"You don't have -"

"I said, _okay_." Jason growls low against Dick's throat, shutting him up. A second later Dick feels him shift closer, leg brushing up between his own. "I want a shower before we go to sleep though, and a drink. You're exhausting."

An unexpected laugh startles its way out of Dick's throat, covering his disappointment at Jason wanting a shower so soon. He rather likes the way he smells now, wearing the scent of sex and Dick's come like perfume. "Me? What about you?"

"What about me?" Jason parrots back at him, as much of a little shit as he's ever been as his fingers slide lower in a exploratory crawl across Dick's hip and to his ass. "Everything today was your idea."

"Yeah sure, blame me for all of it. Ass." Dick replies fondly, kissing his hair again. "Can we shower together?"

"You gonna keep your hands to yourself if we do?"

"Mm. Probably not."

Jason snorts, seconds before he sneakily pinches Dick's ass and makes him yelp. "Maybe next time, pretty bird."

"Mean."

An hour later they're clean and showered, separately despite Dick's best efforts to convince Jason to let him do otherwise. Dick changes the sheets and digs out the spare pair of sweats he originally brought for Jason to spar in, smiling when Jason only bothers to pulls the bottoms on. Turns out they're a little bit too small for him, on account of being Dick's, and the fabric clings to the younger man's thighs and ass in fetching ways as they climb back into the bed and lie down facing each other.

Jason doesn't tuck himself in as close to Dick as he did before, keeping some small distance between them across the pillows. Dick has to lean over to press a kiss to his temple before tugging the blankets in around them, humming in happy, boneless satisfaction at the weariness weighing down his limbs. "So what's the verdict, Jay?" He asks sleepily before he can drop off entirely, "First ever date a success?"

Jason lifts his shoulder in an attempt at a shrug. Each word seems to take him monumental effort to get out, with the sentence finally being punctuated by a yawn at the end. "Wouldn't say no to another."

"Yeah." Dick smiles wider, finding Jason's hand beneath the covers and squeezing it in his own as sleep finally beckons him into its welcoming arms. "Me neither."


	7. Chapter 7

Halloween morning finds Jason on the phone to Roy, while across the room Damian and Lian make faces at each via the laptop Jason has set up on his coffee table. Lian's already dressed for the day ahead in a cute little ladybird costume, and Jason knows without a doubt that he's going to have to have the 'Why we can't go trick or treating' conversation with Damian all over again once they hang up. 

"So." Says the voice in Jason's ear, distracting his attention away from the admittedly adorable antics of the kids. "How's things with Dick?"

"You really missed the boat when they were handing out subtlety, you know that?" The taste of pumpkin spice bursts across his tongue as Jason pops a piece of candy in his mouth from the bowl on the table; one of his tactics for pacifying Damian tonight is to provide plenty of Halloween themed sweets at home without them ever having to leave the apartment. "And I'm not at all shocked that he told you."

"He didn't tell me, I told him. And speaking of, I'm disappointed that you didn't call me sooner after you guys got together. I mean what else are best friends for?"

"Not telling your other best friend that you're doing their ex?"

"Fu - fudging cold, man."

"You asked for it."

Roy makes a fart sound down the phone at him, and Jason groans. "Christ what am I paying you for."

"You don't pay me, baby." Replies Roy, in a tone that tells Jason he's wriggling his hips wherever he is in his house, because sometimes he's a walking sitcom stereotype. "I'm all yours for free."

"Give me a refund." Jason snorts, biting down on his laughter.

"There are no refunds given at Harper Wholesales. Read the small print."

"Yeah, I'll remember that the next time I'm strapped to a bed in the cave and some asshole ginger is giving me a pep talk."

Roy hums, before abruptly turning the conversation back to the original subject. "You haven't answered my question."

"Because I'm trying not to."

"Jay." 

Neither of Jason's mothers had ever managed to pour as much as much reproach into a single syllable as Roy can. 

Sighing, Jason presses himself back against the kitchen counter as he holds the phone to his ear. "It's... it's good. Okay? It's..." he chews his lip, fighting back the smile that wants to spread over his face at even the thought of Dick these days. "It's good. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Only if it's the truth. It is the truth, right?"

"Yeah, it's the truth."

"Then congratulations." Roy says down the line, warm and genuine. "Your adolescent fantasies have finally come true."

 _Jesus Christ_ , Jason bites down on another laugh, covering his mouth to try and muffle the sound. Lucky for him, Damian's so enamoured by Lian that he doesn't even turn around. "I knew I'd regret telling you about that. But thanks. I think."

"You're welcome." Roy says, ignoring his sarcasm completely. "Really, Jaybird, I'm happy for you. Dick's a great guy. I know he'll take care of you."

"I don't need him to take _care_ of me, Roy. I can do that perfectly fine on my own."

"Sure. You just need him to that thing with his tongue when he kisses you, right?"

Jason chokes on air. "What... I... I don't know what you're talking about."

Roy laughs. "It's okay, Jay. I've been there remember? You don't have to be shy. In fact, as your older omega friend, I totally offer my services as the cheat sheet on all things Dick Grayson."

 _My only older omega friend._ Jason almost says. His first reaction to the offer is to blow Roy off the same way he always does when he's playing around like this, especially since he can admit to a little jealousy knowing that Roy's slept with Dick before (multiple times in fact). Except that Jason also knows that it had only ever been sex between them, thanks to Roy's open confession of their past history from the beginning. There was no romance intended, which is the only reason why he doesn't bite back at the insinuation.

That, and the fact that he really could use some advice from a more experienced omega like Roy right now. It's part of the reason he called. "Uh, hold that thought."

Slinking out of the kitchen, Jason sneaks down the hallway until he's absolutely certain that he's out of the children's earshot before clearing his throat awkwardly. "I... I may actually have something I need to talk to you about."

"Okay, shoot." Roy's curiosity is obvious, but he doesn't say anything else. Just like Dick, he's figured out that the best way to get Jason to talk is to give him the space to do it in.

It probably doesn't bode well that his ears are burning already.

There's nothing else to do but push through it, so Jason grits his teeth as he takes the plunge. "Birth control."

He can tell he's taken Roy by surprise, because it actually takes him more than a couple seconds to answer. When he does, there's naked concern in his voice. "Whoa. Wait, hold up a second. You guys are moving that fast? Because Jaybird, I know you're way into him, but -"

"No! No, we haven't - not yet. I'm not ready. I just..." Jason licks his lips as he presses his back against the wall, taking comfort from the solid surface at his back. "I want to be prepared. To be _safe_ , Roy. I know it can still happen even with suppressants, and I can't... not again. Last time -"

"Last time you were in heat, with someone who should have known better." Roy says lowly, the words hinging on a growl. "It won't be like that with Dick, Jay. You know it won't."

He closes his eyes, taking solace in Roy's words. He's the only other person Jason's ever given more than the bare bones of what had happened between him and Talia to, besides his therapist. He knows what Jason needs to be told even without being asked. "I know."

"You're on suppressants. You won't be in heat, and when you make that choice you'll do it with a clear head. Dick will never touch you otherwise."

Jason draws in a deep shuddering breath.

"Jason?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm listening. I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Roy. I'm fine."

"Okay. Good." Roy's voice softens. Jason's sure that if they were in the same room he'd be pouring out calming pheromones right now. "I just want you to be okay, Jaybird. Not that I'm doubting you, or Dick, but you need to be sure about this. I mean, you've talked to him about it, right?"

"A little."

"Jay..."

"Look, we've already done... things. And it's been fine, Roy. I've been fine. Trust me, all right, I've got this under control. I just need to know what I'm doing so I don't get knocked up again."

There's a pause on the other end of the line while Roy considers, before sighing. "Okay. I'm not going to pretend I'm a great expert, but I can tell you one thing, Jaybird, when it comes to birth control it's always safer to use more than one method. The chances are going to be minuscule if you're on suppressants, especially as long as you have been. Which, speaking of -"

"Roy, focus." Jason growls in low warning before he can start up that argument again. It's his body, he can do what he damn well wants with it.

There's a huff, but Roy goes back to his original point without complaint (this time). "Putting it bluntly; condom's never hurt, kid. No matter how appealing it might sound to let him come in you, I can tell you that one from experience."

Well that was some insight into how Lian got conceived that he wasn't expecting. Jason's cheeks heat up again at the implication. "I'm not stupid, Roy."

A split condom is probably what he has to blame for being a parent himself. Or so Jason thinks. The details of the experience remain an uncomfortably hazy memory in his head; one that he doesn't much care to pry deeper into.

"... but you are blushing like a tomato right now, aren't you?"

Someone should have warned Jason that having friends could be such a pain in the ass, then he never would have agreed to one. But he supposes it could be worse, he could be getting this talk from _Bruce_ again; who he's still plenty pissed at for his non-answer regarding Jason's renewed interest in crime fighting. That was one awkward moment he's glad death and the Pit has mostly wiped from his memory. "Go to hell."

"You wish." Roy laughs quietly, before quickly turning sober again. "After Lian was born I did suppressant pills combined with condom's whenever I slept with alphas, and it worked out pretty well for me. But now I'm with Kori I don't need either, so I quit. It all depends how safe you want to be, Jay. 

" _Safe_. As in, no chance at all of it happening again without my say so."

"You probably want the implant then, or injections. I never really looked into those because of, uh, obvious reasons." Right, Jason thinks with a small stab of guilt as he hears Roy swallow audibly on his end before carrying on. "You'll need to see your doctor for something like that anyway. They can advise and prescribe you something that will work with the suppressants you're on better than I can."

Jason sighs as he files that information away for later on. He was hoping to get away without having to go see Leslie or any other doctor by talking to Roy, but he's also not prepared to rely on condoms alone as a safeguard for when the time comes around. Suppressants, strictly speaking, only stopped heats from occurring. It was entirely possibly (if rare) for ovulation to still happen in a much quieter way, and it might only take one slip for Damian to end up with a sibling far earlier than Jason is prepared for. 

Especially with Dick. Their relationship is too new, too fragile, and too important for Jason to want it to be polluted by all the confusion and obligation a baby would potentially bring; that's if he did decide to keep it, and if he didn't... Jason doesn't want to think about it. He only knows that if he and Dick are going to last it needs to be because they _want_ to be together, rather than because Jason failed to control his own body's reproductive urges a second time.

Last time he was seventeen, angry and desperate for any connection, this time he promises himself that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Right. Thanks Roy."

"Sure thing, Jaybird. Anything else I can add to your tab today?"

Jason rolls his eyes. It's time to change the subject. "You and Lian are still visiting for Damian's birthday, right?"

"So long as nothing apocalyptic happens with the Outsiders, definitely. Still wish you'd brought Damian up to New York for Halloween though. Lian would have loved having him here, and you need to let the kid enjoy the finer things in life once in a while."

Jason shakes his head, forgetting that he's on the phone for a moment. "It's better he gets used to it now, Roy. Gotham isn't safe on Halloween, and I won't be able to take him elsewhere every year."

The fact that he wants to be around should any of his pack get hurt has nothing to do with it.

"I know, but just think of the possibilities. He could have been a bee. He and Lian would have matched. Then there would have been photo's. Photo's you could embarrass him with when he's older."

"Are you kidding?" Jason rolls his eyes. "He'd never let me dress him as a bee. It'd be Batman or nothing."

"You've got to record the day he finds out about that."

Jason moves back up the hallway and stops in the doorway to the lounge as he watches Damian engage with Lian in playing patty cake through the laptop screen. For a moment his heart squeezes tight in his chest, and it has to be all the talk of birth control that has him running his hand over his now very flat stomach. "Yeah. Yeah I sure will."

That day might have to come sooner rather than later with the way things are progressing. It's already a miracle that Damian doesn't seem to remember seeing Batman, Nightwing and Robin on the night when Jason got him back from Talia in the first place - though maybe some residual memory is to blame for the existence of his Batman obsession, Jason thinks. He can't say either way for sure, only hope that he can figure out a way to tell Damian the truth before he gets old enough to resent Jason for hiding it from him.

"I'll hold you to that. A verbal promise is legally binding." Roy is saying, "But hey, listen, I've got to tell you about this new arrow I made. You'll love it. You see, what I did was..."

Roy rambles on, and Jason listens, letting the technobabble wash over his senses as the kids talk and play together. His thoughts drift off to all the things he has to do today before it gets dark, adding making a doctors appointment to that list because doing it sooner rather than later will be easier on him. The longer he puts something off, the less likely he is to go through with it.

... which applies to a lot of things actually. Jason thinks back to Dick and his heartfelt words about not having to hide their relationship any longer. He's been thinking a lot about that one this week, what with hardly having been able to see Dick since their date on account of all the crap going down on Gotham's streets in the lead up to Halloween. What time they had managed to share with each other up at the manor would've been a hell of a lot easier if they weren't constantly worrying about Bruce seeing them together.

Jason grips the door frame tightly. Tomorrow, he decides finally. He'll talk to Dick about it tomorrow, alongside everything else that needs to be said between them.

 

*

 

Up at the manor, battle lines are being drawn.

Dick and Tim wake up in the early hours of the afternoon after only four hours of sleep each; less for Tim, if the way Dick has to haul his head out of his 'breakfast' twice is anything to go by. Not much later Cassandra joins them, finally back from her mission abroad. She helps herself to the bowl of fruit Alfred always keeps filled on the kitchen table before they all head down to the Cave together to suit up once more.

"It's about time you three got down here." Bruce growls from the computer, cowl pushed back behind his head as he runs his hand over four-day old stubble. His eyes are dark and reddened with exhaustion. As far as Dick can tell Bruce hasn't been to bed for at least two days, powering through sleep-deprivation in his mad search to find where Scarecrow's hiding, and it shows in the stiffness of his posture when he turns round to regard the three of them. Anyone else would be ready to collapse at this stage, but for Bruce it's nothing. He won't stop until the night is over and Crane is back behind bars.

"Wow, rude much." Dick huffs, snapping his teeth to warn Bruce off. Moving between the pack leader and the younger two is instinct, because none of them need anymore stress than what they're already under. "We're here and we're ready, Bruce. Just tell us where you want us to go."

Bruce meets his eyes, and for a moment the air between them sparks electric. Dick has only ever seriously challenged Bruce twice in his life, and both times he came off the loser, but there's always the feeling between them that one day that will no longer be the case.

Now is not that time. Dick doesn't want it to be even close to the time, so he holds his hands up and tilts his head back in a small show of submission that manages to calm Bruce's ire. The sooner this night is over with, the better for all of them.

Then he'll be free to concentrate on Jason, with only his own territory of Bludhaven to worry about.

... not exactly an appropriate thought to be having right now, but Dick can't help it. The memory of their date a week prior is still fresh in his mind, as is the imprint of Jason's mouth and hands on his. Since that night he's barely seen Jason at all, reduced to stealing kisses in passing as his life was once again consumed by the ever pressing need to control the havoc threatening to erupt on Gotham's streets - along with an emergency run back to Bludhaven two nights ago to deal the Trigger Twins taking the worst opportunity possible to cause trouble. Bruce's orders to engage in a show of force that would hopefully keep the criminal element too afraid to act out on the worst night of the year had them all running ragged, with precious little time for anything else.

"Fine." Bruce's voice interrupts his train of thought, thank God, and Dick forces himself to pay attention before he can get anymore uncomfortable. He's glad he had the forethought to apply his scent-patches early. "Here's what we know."

The three junior members of the pack move in closer, listening as Bruce pulls up mug-shots, maps and diagrams onto the computer. It's a pretty standard briefing, except for the unknown scale of Scarecrow's plan hanging over them. They're just lucky that the Joker is still locked up in Arkham, though not for lack of trying to break out.

Dick and Bruce had stopped him at the start of the week, caught him before he could even make it off the island and tossed him back into his cell. All in all, it had been a pretty satisfying experience.

"The East End's too low-key to be his real target." Tim's arguing beside him while Dick reminisces, flipping his collapsed bow staff between his fingers. "We might get some incidents there, but it can't be his main goal."

"The mayor's having a costume party at City Hall, despite being warned not to." Dick grimaces. "I'd bet anything that's where he'll be. The rest is probably a distraction."

Cassandra doesn't say anything, just watches the screen, expression hard. She'd changed her uniform last year, and it's nice to be able to see her face rather than the blank, eyeless cowl she'd worn before. 

From where he stands, casting an impressive hulking shadow against the glow of the computer screen, Bruce nods in agreement. "Which is why I'll be staking out City Hall while the rest of you make a circuit of the city."

"Shouldn't one of us be with you as back up?"

"No." Bruce says at once, surprising no one. "If and when Crane makes his move, then we'll redeploy forces. I want you all covering as much ground as possible in case we're wrong. You have your antitoxin doses with you, with enough for any civilians you should find affected as well, but make sure to use your gas masks in the face of any bombs that do go off in case it's a new strain we haven't encountered before."

Liar. If Crane shows up at City Hall while Bruce is there alone there's no chance in hell that he'll call for help. Not unless he's dying, and maybe not even then.

Dick reminds himself to keep tuned into the police radio frequency as an alarm system for any Bat-stupidity. "Got it. Do we have any way yet to detect which jack o'lantern's are harmless and which one's are bombs? Because I'd rather not have to ruin some poor kids night by going round smashing every pumpkin I find if I can help it."

"There'll be some metal and glass components to the bombs. Your scanners should be able to detect them."

Tim extends his staff and taps it on the ground. Nerves maybe, Dick thinks, or impatience. The two could be surprisingly closely intertwined. "Unless Scarecrow's thought that far ahead and lined the explosives with something to throw off our tech." 

"Let's pray that he hasn't." Bruce grimaces. Which is his way of saying they may be fucked otherwise.

With the primary threat out of the way, they move on to discussing the smaller one's. When the time eventually comes to move out Dick says good bye to Alfred first, patting the old man reassuringly on the shoulder before moving over to where his bike is parked and taking one final deep breath before climbing on board.

Just this night. Just this one God forsaken night.

A light tap to his shoulder distracts him before he can start the engine and pull away. Dick looks up and smiles when he realises it's Cassandra standing next to him. "Hey, lil' sis. You ready for this?"

"Always ready." Cass shakes her head, unimpressed by his show. She reaches to poke him in the forehead this time. "Stay focused."

Dick wrinkles his brow. "I am focused."

"No. Need to be here, not there." She pokes him again, too quick for Dick to stop her, and he growls lightly in response. "Cass -"

She gives him an unimpressed look, and if the scariest people in the world can't intimidate her than what hope does Dick have. Designation's mean nothing to Cassandra, he knows that. Finally Dick sighs, "I know. I swear my head's in the game. I just want this night over with, you know?"

"All of us do." She turns her head and Dick follows her gaze over to Tim, who's still talking to Alfred. Her lips purse. "He's still not... okay. Still sad. Heart sad."

"I know." He doesn't doubt Cass' opinion for an instant. "But we've got his back. Tim will be fine, Cass, I promise. I'll make sure of it."

Her gaze softens behind her mask, and Dick smiles when she finally leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. "See you."

"Count on it." Gunning the engine of his bike, Dick zips out of the cave and into the evening air, heading for the bright lights of Gotham ahead. He's focused, there's just one thing he needs to do first.

 

*

 

Jason and Damian are halfway through watching _Hotel Transylvania_ when his phone rings. It's getting kind of late, and Damian's already half asleep on his lap, stuffed full of candy and chocolate, so Jason keeps his voice low when he answers. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me."

"Dick?" Jason frowns. Damian quietly mumbles 'Duck' under his breath, cuddling Daw under his chin. "What are you doing?"

"Heading out to punch bad guys. You?"

Dick sounds strained on the other end. Jason's eyes flick to the screen and then back down at his son. "Watching the destruction of great literature. Are you seriously calling me on the job again?"

"Don't worry, I muted my communicator. No one else can hear us."

"Really not my point. Why are you calling me now?"

Dick takes a moment to answer, and the silence is filled by the roar of his bike's engine. "... I just wanted to hear your voice, okay." 

Heat blossoms across Jason's cheeks, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to hearing such admissions from Dick. It's soppy, and embarrassing, and - and it makes him feel good, all at once. "Dick..."

"It's going to be a long night out here. I just want to make sure you and Damian are going to be okay."

"We're fine." Jason reassures him at once, finding the question to be a little alarming considering the circumstances. "Dami's almost asleep, and all the security's armed and working. You should be concentrating on yourself and the others." This has to be some kind of alpha thing brought on by the fact that they're together. It's the only explanation, because Dick's never done anything like this in the past; if Bruce thought he and Damian were in any particular danger he would have been warned about it.

"I know, I just..." There's a horn blaring, and Jason winces as he moves the phone a little further away from his ear. He doesn't envy Dick having to get through Gotham traffic tonight. "Yeah. You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Jason rolls his eyes, "Just get your shi - self together. We're fine, and you'd better stay fine too. Don't think I'm afraid to hit an injured man."

Dick laughs on his end. "Trust me, I remember. Look I... aw crap. Gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow, Jay."

"Yeah, see you -" The call cuts off and Jason starts, turning his head to stare at the phone, wondering if the trouble is kicking off early this year.

He sighs as he puts it down, running his fingers through Damian's hair. He's practically passed out now despite the conversation that just happened over his head, and Jason looks to the window, wishing again that he could be out there with his pack. Wishing he knew exactly what was going on.

_He'll be fine. You know he'll be fine. He's managed without you for years._

As a way of making himself feel better, that last one is not a particularly healthy thought.

"Okay, little man." Jason forces himself to action, switching off the movie before scooping Damian up in his arms. "Let's get you into bed."

"Drac'la." Damian mumbles sleepily in protest, snuggling into him.

"We can finish Dracula tomorrow." Though Jason would prefer almost anything else. Movies involving an adults fear of losing their child always strike a little too close to home. He kisses the top of his son's head as he carries him to his room. "You're just a little monster, remember? Little monsters need to go to bed early."

Damian doesn't answer, having dropped off to sleep completely in the seconds it took Jason to answer. Jason has to lean back to stop him from dropping Daw on the floor as he awkwardly shuffles through the door and to the bed, switching Damian to a one-armed hold so that he can pull the covers back. 

Delicate explosives are easier to handle than sleeping toddlers, he thinks, but finally Jason gets Damian in bed with his stuffed toys and the blankets tucked in around him just the way he likes. Then, in a move that's more than a little inspired by Dick's call, he goes over to his son's bedroom window to check the lock on it again.

It's sealed tight with no signs of tampering, but there's still a nervous flutter in Jason's heart as he runs his fingers around the edges of the bulletproof glass. 

"Stupid." Jason mutters under his breath as he closes the curtains again. There's no way anyone can get in who isn't a member of his family, but he feels better for having done so regardless. 

He leaves Damian's bedroom door cracked open on his way out.

Back in the living room, Jason makes himself a cup of tea and settles back on the couch with his newest book. It's still far too early for him to go to sleep yet, no matter how early he's used to getting up in the morning, so he'll spend at least a couple hours reading before trying to lie down.

Trying being the operative word.

After a couple of pages Jason looks up at the blank TV, then with a sigh reaches for the remote to turn it back on again. A couple of button pushes have him settled on a news channel, and Jason turns the sound down until it's not too intrusive - yet is still loud enough that he won't be able to miss any emergency news bulletins that come up.

This is dumb. He and Damian have made it through the last two years perfectly fine, so why is he worrying so much now? Dick is a seasoned vigilante, the best of them, and he's survived a hell of a lot more than Jason has. Emphasis on the word _survived_. There's no reason for Jason to think he won't do it again this time, or to feel this longing for Dick to be home with him instead.

He's never needed an alpha's protection to feel safe before, and he's damn well not about to start now.

Is this the price he's going to pay for this relationship? A mess of feelings and a constant desire to be close. Because if it is Jason doesn't know if he's going to be able to cope with it at all. One thing he's always hated is to have his head messed with, especially by his own instincts (which makes the reason why he hasn't come off suppressants once in over three years abundantly clear, despite how risky it is to his reproductive health). It just... it can't always be like this, can it?

It has to be tied in to how new their relationship is. That's the only explanation. Jason's sure that with a little more time he and Dick will be able to rein themselves in.

And if they can't... he shies away from that thought before it can even finish crossing his mind.

"Get it together." He mutters to himself, stretching out on the couch and opening his book to where he last left off. In the background the news reader's voice drones on, a dull soundtrack to an otherwise interesting story.

As it turns out, Jason falls asleep long before the real trouble starts.

 

*

 

_Thunk._

Jason's eyes shoot open, blinking at the sudden brightness of the light above him.

It takes him a moment to realise that he'd fallen asleep on the couch, that the light is the one that he left on, and that the sound that woke him is of the window being unlocked from the outside. A realisation punctuated by a cold burst of air blasting across his skin as the glass slides open, and Jason's instantly on his feet, book falling from his chest as he lifts his fists up in front of him.

A figure tumbles in from the window to land on Jason's floor, and his heart skips a beat once he registers the familiar black and blue costume.

"... Dick?"

It _is_ Dick, make no mistake about it. But Jason knows immediately that something's wrong, because Dick's not getting up from where he's fallen. From where he's crouched, breathing hard and whimpering, face screwed up with his fists balled over his bare eyes because he's torn his mask off his face and thrown it across the floor

Jason glances to the TV, which is still playing to itself, to the headlines scrawling across the bottom of the screen, and then out the window, to the smoke rising into the air across the city. 

_Shit!_

Jason bolts forwards to the window, grabbing the edge and yanking it closed before any further risk of fear toxin infiltrating his home can occur, ignoring the way the alpha on his floor flinches backwards. He's furious suddenly, angry beyond measure that Dick has come here and risked contaminating the space he shares with Damian, yet , at the same time, he's worried sick. Because Dick's curled up into a foetal position on his floor, choking and whimpering at nothing, shaking at even the slightest noise.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be prepared for this shit, it wasn't supposed to invade Jason's _home_.

"Dick." Jason moves slowly, bringing himself down low in front of his boyfriend. There's dried blood running down from his temple. "Dick." He can't risk touching him yet, not when he doesn't know if Dick will lash out at him for doing so. "Hey."

He reaches forwards slowly, just holding his hand in front of him as he waits for Dick to take notice that he's here. 

Nothing, no response. Whatever he's seeing has Dick locked in tight, and Jason wonders how the hell he managed to make his way over here to start with. Instinct or willpower? Maybe some part of him had managed to stay aware along enough to guide Dick to a place where he felt safe, or at least knew that help would be waiting.

 _This is my home_ , Jason thinks to himself again. _This is my home._

And Dick is his boyfriend.

He licks his lips and switches to a different tactic. It's been a long time since Jason had to deal with Scarecrow's tricks, but he still remembers the basics and what had helped him in lieu of a readily available antidote. Dick probably has some in his gauntlets, but Jason is willing to bet anything that they won't work even if he could get close enough to take them out and inject him. 

Dick would have been smart enough to dose himself before he went out onto the streets, so this gas has to be a new strain. One that Bruce didn't know about.

Slowly Jason reaches up, pressing his fingers to the scent glands on his neck. He bites down on a hiss as he rubs his fingers across them, gathering concentrated pheromones on his fingertips. It feels good in a distracting way, but there's a bigger purpose behind it as he inches towards Dick with his hand stretched out again.

"Hey, big bird." Jason keeps his voice low and soothing, using the same tone he would for when Damian was upset from a nightmare. Talking the way he always wished someone would talk to him when he suffered one of his own. "Come on, I know you're in there. You came here for a reason." He leans in closer, fingers brushing under Dick's nose, smearing his concentrated scent above his mouth with its clenched teeth while hoping Dick isn't about to bite him. "Snap out of it."

Once, when Jason was thirteen, he'd fallen down through rotten floorboards into one of Crane's labs, hitting a table full of experimental fear serum and setting it off. The experience had left him suffering from nightmares for weeks afterwards, but the thing that had brought him back, had always brought him back, was Bruce. Bruce holding him close, forcing Jason's face against his neck until all he could smell was the alpha, and that scent broke through the haze of terror that controlled him.

It had helped, and now Jason prays that the same technique will be enough to help Dick too.

"... Jay..."

The sound of his name brings a smile to Jason's lips, even though it doesn't make him any less worried. "I'm here, Dickie."

A soft whimper escapes Dick and Jason can see his nose working, inhaling the scent rising from Jason's fingers. Jason licks his lips as he swaps one hand for the other, pushing the first back up to his neck for a fresh coating. "You can smell me, can't you? That's me, I'm here, I'm real. Whatever you think you're seeing, it ain't there."

Dick hiccups, and his tongue darts out between his lips, tasting the air like a snake would in combination to his nose. The tip of it catches Jason's fingertips, causing him to shudder, and he takes that as encouragement to move closer.

There's a part of him that's afraid, because nothing puts people back under the control of basic instinct like fear, but try as he might, Jason can't bring himself to bring himself to do the smarter thing and retreat to call Bruce without trying to help Dick first. He can't just leave him to suffer like this.

"Jay." This time his name is said with a whimper, "Oh God, Jay... God, Jay, don't go."

"Shh..." Jason swallows as he kneels in front of Dick, putting his hands up onto his shoulders before slipping them up into his hair. "I'm here, big bird."

Dick is so tense that it feels like someone has carved him out of marble, and Jason has to tug, soft and gentle, whispering encouraging words all the while to get him to move his hands away from his eyes. He pulls Dick's head forwards and presses his face into his neck, shivering at the rush of breath across his throat.

He really hopes there's not enough residual toxin in Dick's hair or costume to affect him or they really will be fucked. "Easy," he murmurs, "Easy." Jason's fingers glide through Dick's hair to his ear, fishing for the communicator he knows is there. The little bud comes free easily, and Jason doesn't hesitate to press it into his own ear.

At once he's assaulted by sound. The frenzied communications of his family over the radio waves, and his flinch doesn't help matters with Dick any as the alpha lets out a sob and suddenly clenches his arms so tight around Jason that he can barely breathe.

"Shit... ah... easy. I swear I'm not going anywhere, Dick." Jason takes in a shuddering breath. In. Out. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Then he pushes the button on the communicator that will key him into the conversation. "So, any of you guys missing a blue bird?"

At once the voices stop, shocked into silence by his own.

"Jason?" Bruce and Tim say at once, and it's fucking weird as their voices overlap, then both stop and start for a moment in saying his name, until finally Tim shuts up and let's Bruce take control. 

Jason rubs Dick's back gently as he whimpers again. "Yeah, surprise, it's me. So any takers?"

"Nightwing's with you?" Bruce cuts right to the chase.

"You truly are the world's greatest detective, B." Jason replies sarcastically, before turning serious. "Yes, he's with me. What the fuck happened out there?" Now that he's listening he can hear sirens in the background, and not all of them are coming from the radio.

"New fear toxin strain. None of our old antidotes are working." Tim fills in at once before Bruce can. "N's gas mask was damaged when he was trying to help... to help some of the affected victims."

"Let me guess, then he freaked out and ran?"

Bruce doesn't dignify that obvious statement with an answer. His voice sounds strained, and maybe a little confused. He's probably trying to work out why Dick went to Jason of all people, and honestly the thought makes Jason's heart beat a little quicker than is strictly necessary. "How is he?"

"How the fuck do you think he is?!" Jason bites down the line, barely restraining a protective snarl. He regrets it at once as Dick squeezes him tighter, responding to the tone of his voice as much as his scent. Jason has to bite back a whimper of his own in response, especially as he feels Dick's hand slip under the fabric of his shirt to press against his bare skin. "Look, he's... not really responsive. It's like he's locked inside his own head by whatever he's seeing. I've got him calmed down, and I'm going to try and get him cleaned off in a minute, but this isn't exactly an ideal situation you know. Please tell me you guys already caught Crane."

There's a pretty poignant silence on the other end of the line. "Fuck, you haven't."

"Clean him off, keep him calm, and make sure your apartment is sealed tight." Bruce orders. "I'll call Penny One to come collect him."

Something in Jason reacts violently to that idea, and he only regrets it once the words are out of his mind. "Fuck that. If he can barely move, he certainly isn't going to like being shoved into a car and driven up to the manor. I'll keep him here until you guys have a clue what you're doing."

"What about -"

"He's asleep." Jason says quickly, before anyone can do anything so idiotic as say his sons name out loud in costume. It's too late to take it back now, even if he wanted to (and he doesn't want to, because Dick chose to come to _him_ ). "So long as N stays quiet it'll be fine."

Maybe that's asking a lot from someone doped up on fear toxin, but Dick hasn't started screaming yet.

"Jay -"

"Look. You didn't want me out there with you, so fuck it, I'll do my part here instead. Now get the hell going and score us an antidote, Bruce. Before I come out there and kick your ass." Jason mutes the comm without another word, turning his attention back down to Dick. His hand has wormed further up under Jason's shirt, and his nose is still firmly pressed against his neck as he seeks comfort like a child; through skin contact and smell.

Okay, shower time.

"Dickie bird." Jason rubs his back, and runs his other hand through Dick's hair. He's shaking, trembling really. "Dickie bird, I'm going to need you to move, okay? We need to get you out of the uniform and washed off. Can you do that for me?"

No response. Jason sighs. Okay, he's going to have to play this by ear. Carefully he leans back, rolling onto his feet before trying to stand. Predictably it doesn't go well, as Dick refuses to let go of him, and doesn't seem that inclined to move either. In fact the first thing he tries to do is pull Jason back down, and okay, that is _not_ going to stand.

Jason bites down his natural inclination to growl, knowing that Dick is not at all in his right mind at the moment. It's not his fault, but Jason's also not prepared to sit here like this all night until the effects of the toxin wears off by itself. A shower won't be a miracle cure, but it sure as hell will be better than doing nothing. 

Time to play dirty. Taking a deep breath, Jason tilts his head back and lets loose a whine that has Dick tensing up all over again, then a second that finally see's him lifting his head. Now Jason can see his eyes, and almost wishes he hadn't; they're wide and tormented, haunted by something only Dick can see. And -

And he's been crying. He's been crying and Jason had been too preoccupied with snapping at Bruce to notice.

Jason feels even worse about preying on Dick's protective instincts towards him than he did before, but it's too late to back out now. He chooses his words carefully. "Dick, I need you to come with me."

"I... Jay... I can't... I..."

" _Dick._ " Jason brushes his fingers up under Dick's nose again, still laden with his own scent. "Please. I promise, I'm trying to help you, okay? You need to trust me. I'm here, I'm real. You can smell me, can't you?"

Slowly Dick nods, the streaks left by his tears glistening on his cheeks. "Yeah... yeah I can."

"Then focus on that. Whatever your eyes are telling you, ignore them. Focus on my scent." His hands gather under Dick's arms again. "Now, stand up."

Remarkably, this time Dick does as he's told.

"Good." Jason praises him, keeping his arm wrapped around Dick's waist. "That's good, Dick. You can hang onto me, all right?" Telling him he can is a moot point when Dick is already clutching at Jason like a damn koala bear, but it makes Jason feel better to say it.

Slowly they start to shuffle across the living room and down the hall. Dick keeps his face pressed as much to Jason's neck (or shoulder) as he can, and to be honest his ragged breathing and lack of scent thanks to the neutraliser patches he has on freaks Jason out a little. It's even worse when they pass Damian's room.

He should have closed the door. He should have closed the door, but he'd been more worried about not being able to hear _Damian_ if he woke up more than the idea of Damian hearing someone else crashing into his apartment.

_Don't wake up, Dami. Please don't wake up._

Jason holds his breath all the way down the hall, until they're in the bathroom and he's firmly shut the door behind them. Mission accomplished, almost. Now he actually has to get Dick stripped and cleaned up.

"You know," he starts to say conversationally as he turns in Dick's arms, figuring that talking bullshit is better than saying nothing at all. "When I imagined getting in a shower with you, it was supposed to be distinctly more sexy than what this is going to be. You really never do anything by halves, Grayson. Guess I should have taken you up on the offer last week, huh?"

Dick lets out a noise that sounds like it was supposed to be a laugh, but it comes out more like a sob instead. Jason talks past it as he skims his hands over the suit and tries to remember exactly what to do to get it off without shocking the shit out of himself.

"Yeah. You never do. Like coming here now, that's another thing." Jason's fingers find the hidden switches and hit them, biting his lip until he's sure the dangers past and it's safe to pull the concealed zipper at the back of Dick's neck down. "Not sure what you were thinking, but let's be honest here, you probably weren't thinking at all." He licks his lips, because Dick's watching him with big, wet blue eyes, and the only thing he's seen that's worse is Damian's face when he's crying. 

He sighs, tilting his head back so Dick can do what he obviously wants to and press his face to Jason's throat again. "... I want to be mad at you for coming here like this. Hell, I am mad at you. But I know it's not your fault, you're... hah. You're you, and you're drugged to the gills. And I swear when I start patrolling again the first thing I'm going to do is break Crane's nose for you. I don't care if he's in Arkham or not at that point, I'll find a way." He gets the zipper down all the way, feeling Dick start to tremble all over again as Jason works the suit down off his shoulders and arms, pausing only to unfasten and pull the gauntlets off Dick's hands so that he can get it all the way down to his waist.

Dick flinches when he tries to go lower, and that makes Jason freeze in a very uncomfortable way. "Okay." he says quietly," Okay. We'll leave it there for now. Come on, big bird."

Jason backs towards the shower, still wearing all his clothes, and Dick follows, wheezing his broken ragged breaths and clinging to Jason's waist tight enough to bruise. He has to fumble blindly to switch the hot water on, and Dick flinches again at the sudden sound of it before Jason pulls him under the spray.

Now Dick cries out. The sudden shock of the water makes him try to retreat but Jason hangs on doggedly, even going so far as to whine manipulatively again to make Dick's instinct flip from _flee_ to _protect_ if he can. It works, making Dick hesitate long enough that the sensation of water running over his hair and skin no longer feels so alien and threatening. He relaxes, just marginally.

"Yeah, you got it. That's better." Jason runs his fingers over Dick's hair, watching him blink as water droplets catch in his thick eyelashes. He reaches for the shampoo, "Just hold on, big bird, you'll feel better soon."

The next twenty minutes pass slowly, with Jason mumbling more nonsense under his breath as he cleans Dick off, wiping away the blood and grime. Mostly he talks about Damian and what he's done today. All the normal, harmless, everyday adventures of a toddler, and it's just about the time he's complaining about the amount of sugar Damian's ingested that Dick suddenly pulls back and looks at him with eyes that are clearer than they have been for the past hour.

"Jay?"

"Yeah, Dickie bird?" Jason stops what he's doing as a hand cups his chin, hands stilling on Dick's shoulders.

Dick breathes in deep, blinking his eyes. "You're really here."

"Well," Jason swallows, "Yeah. Where else would I be?"

"I thought..." He can feel the tremble still in Dick's muscles, and knows that even though he looks more level-headed now he's nowhere near scot-free of Scarecrow's insidious drug. But so long as he can _think_ and reason, that's enough for Jason. "I thought you were gone."

Jason shakes his head. "I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere, I swear." he feels Dick's thumb brush over the corner of his mouth. 

"Is Damian -"

"Damian's safe too. And so are Bruce, Tim and Cass." The last that Jason knew anyway, but he's not so stupid as to say that. He needs Dick reassured and calm, and saying anything that could potentially ramp his paranoia back up is a no go."Whatever you thought you saw, it was just a fucked up vision because of the toxin."

Dick nods slowly, then he starts to look around, squinting through the water. "Wait... is this... this is your place."

"Sure is."

Just like that, Jason see's the alarm start to spread back across Dick's face. "Oh God. I came here... oh God, Jay I'm - I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have -"

Jason squeezes his shoulders tight before Dick can freak himself out again. "Shh. Easy, big bird. it's okay." It's not, but they'll have that conversation another time. "It's all right, I got you."

"I don't know what I was thinking." Dick's breathing starts to hitch again, "I just - I had to -"

" _Dick_." Jason runs his hand over the expanse of Dick's back, sliding up and down the curve of his spine. "It's fine. I get it. All that matters right now is that you're safe." He turns his head and kisses the stubbled line of Dick's jaw, nosing in against his cheek. "You're safe, and you're with me."

Another whimper, and this time there really is nothing for it. Jason turns his head, sighs and presses their mouths together. The fingers Dick still has on his face tighten their grip in surprise, then he's kissing back, weak and needy. It's not like any of the other kisses they've shared, there's no passion or hunger beneath it, just a need to reassure and comfort. It's a kiss that says above all else _I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere_.

Eventually Jason feels confident enough to turn the water back off. "Hey," he murmurs against Dick's mouth, "Think you can take the rest of that suit off and get into some dry clothes for me?"

"Trying to get me naked, little wing?" And Jason knows Dick must be feeling better if he can crack jokes, even weak one's.

"Just don't want you dripping all over my bed, that's all." Jason says without thinking.

They step carefully out of the shower, and Dick manages to let go of Jason to unfasten his boots and climb out of the rest of his uniform. Rather than head to his room for clean clothing, Jason just goes to the laundry basket that's located conveniently closer and pulls them out a shirt and pair of sweatpants each that aren't too dirty; having Jason's scent in the clothing will probably help Dick more anyway.

It's only when he hands them over to Dick, and then pulls off his own sodden clothing to change for the dry items, that Jason realises what he implied. What he means to do. To let Dick sleep in his own bed with him and that, that's _something_ all right; more than sleeping together in one of the guest rooms at the penthouse was, because that was neutral ground and this is Jason's. But he won't take it back, not when Dick needs it and Jason knows in his heart that he's now willing.

"Come on, pretty bird." He reaches for Dick's hand when they're both clothed, squeezing his strong calloused fingers between his own, "Let's get you settled."

They head back out of the bathroom, in a slightly more dignified way than the conjoined shuffle by which they entered, and it all seems good until Jason opens the door, looks down, and finds his heart freezing in his chest.

Damian stares right back up at him, one of Daw's ears caught between his teeth as he chews on it.

"Dami..." Jason starts to say weakly.

His son tilts his head, stopping his chewing as he lifts one small hand and points behind him at Dick, who seems to have stopped breathing entirely in the face of his nephew. "Duck here." The spit sodden ear of Daw falls from his mouth.

Thinking quickly, Jason squeezes Dick's hand to assure him and nods. "Uncle Duck - he's uh... sick, Dami. He's staying with Mommy tonight."

He really needs Dick to take in a breath sometime soon now.

Damian's eyes widen, while Jason tries hard not to think about the Nightwing uniform laid out on his bathroom floor. Why the hell didn't he hide it while he had the chance? "Duck sick?"

"That's right." Carefully, Jason manoeuvres himself to both pull the bathroom door shut and wrap his arm around Dick's waist. The alpha latches onto him again with bruising force, but at least he inhales.

Damian seems to think it over, then gets the most determined expression on his little face. "I help." He declares, stepping forwards and reaching to take Dick's other hand in his. 

All at once, Jason feels an uncontrollable burst of love for his son, because Dick's expression breaks from restrained terror into a watery smile. "Thanks, little D." He says hoarsely, looking fragile in all the ways Dick never has to Jason before.

He's seen him angry, yes, in pain, yes, but like he's about to shatter into a thousand pieces? _Never_. Dick has always been the strong one, the best out of all of them.

It's fine, Jason thinks, forestalling his own panic. Now there's three of them making the journey into his bedroom and maybe that's better. Damian doesn't have to know the real reason Dick's acting out of sorts to help. It's really not the worst thing that could have happened.

(Bad thought. Bad, bad thought.)

"Dami, go pull down the blankets, okay?" 

With a solemn nod, Damian lets go of Dick's hand, snagging the corner of the blanket on one side of the bed and dragging it down as Jason pulls Dick closer. "You made it, Dickie bird." He murmurs, "Just lie down now, okay?"

"Jay -"

"I'll be here. I'm just going to get you some water." Jason promises, feeling his reluctance. He licks his lips, leans in and kisses Dick's forehead through his damp bangs before turning to go back out of the room. "Damian, look after Uncle Duck for me a minute, okay?"

"'kay, Mommy."

The trip to the kitchen to grab a glass of water seems to take an eternity, even though Jason does it at a run. It's no more than sixty seconds, but his mind starts to play awful tricks on him with the idea of Dick freaking out again in front of Damian, and Jason wonders if he's not entirely unaffected by the remnants of the toxin on Dick after all.

When he enters his bedroom again, shutting the door and dimming the light, it's to see he had nothing to fear at all. 

Dick's curled up on his bed with Damian, the toddler tucked up in his arms, their dark heads bent together as Damian mumbles sleepy nonsense and pushes his beloved toy against Dick's chest. Jason swallows thickly at the sight, walking over as quietly as he can to put the water down on Dick's side of the bed before he circles round to the other and slips in under the covers there.

 _Too close_ a part of him whispers, while another says _Not close enough._ Jason eases himself across the mattress, looking through the dim light to see Dick staring back at him before reaching out one hand pleadingly. That's all it takes for Jason to give in.

The two of them wrap themselves around Damian and each other, and it's - it's _intimate._ It's... Jason can feel his heart beating faster in his chest, ignoring the leg an already dozing Damian has kicked into his stomach. It's Dick, here in his bed, Dick hurt and needing him, with Damian safe between them. It's...

Pack. Family.

"Go to sleep, big bird." Jason sighs across the space between their lips.

His own eyes drift closed as Dick presses their heads together, and the last thing Jason remembers to do before he falls asleep is pull the bud of Dick's comm out of his ear and throw it across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /steeples hands together


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /falls over
> 
> Hey everyone, here's a new update of this for you. And with it an announcement that, at least for now, I'm giving up on a regular update day. I'll still be trying to get one thing out every week, but I'm officially out of a buffer with any of my stories, and currently not writing fast enough to build one back up (real life is icky).
> 
> Hope you enjoy. As ever, thank you so much for reading, your kudos and comments mean the world to me <3

The first time Dick claws his way into waking, it's with the icy tendrils of a lingering nightmare snapping at his heels.

For a moment he forgets what it is to breathe, swept up by the sensation of vertigo in his stomach, the rush of wind in his ears as the ground rushes up to meet him, already smeared with red blood and broken bones. His limbs lock, his heart stops, and his eyes fly open to -

Soft light. A ceiling. Slow breathing from two sets of lungs to his left.

Dick exhales with a bone rattling sigh. When he breathes in there's a scent like rich, full-bodied warm wine, filling his lungs like ambrosia. Underneath it another scent blossoms, soft and immature, but with an edge that promises strength one day.

He's in Jason's apartment he realises. He's safe. Warm. The mattress of the bed is a firm surface underneath him, he isn't falling, and the reason he can't move is because... because...

_Jay._

Turning his head, Dick feels some of the remaining tension bleed out of him at the sight of Jason's sleeping face inches from his own. Lowering his gaze a little further he finds Damian too, curled up between the two adults with his face mashed in against Dick's chest. One small hand grips the borrowed shirt he's wearing, while the other wraps around the ear of Damian's favourite stuffed animal: Daw. He's safely ensconced in the tangle of Jason and Dick's limbs, like he's meant to fit there. And Jay...

Dick swallows even as he leans forwards, nose twitching as he sniffs deeper, then presses a kiss to the tip of Jason's nose. His cheek, his mouth. The nightmare's chill subsides into the base of his spine and he finds that he can breathe normally again, even though an undercurrent of worry left by Scarecrow's toxin lingers in his veins.

Those insidious traces left behind are almost worse than the main event, because even though Dick's memory is hazy from right about the time he got a mouthful of the stuff until he was in Jason's shower, he knows he fucked up last night. The fact that he's here is proof of that, and until Jason wakes up he has no idea what the consequences will be. He could forgive him, he could hate him. Dick brought the dangers of their world right into the heart of Jason's den, the fact that he was under the influence of dangerous chemicals doesn't excuse that.

He can't have fucked this up. Not yet, not this early -

"Can hear you thinking from here." 

Dick doesn't realise he's started to hyperventilate again until Jason's slurred, sleep-laden voice interrupts the steadily rising panic of his thoughts. "Calm down."

"Jay... I..."

Jason's eyes crack open, and for a heart-stopping moment all Dick can see is a poisonous Pit-Green glow leaking through thick sweeping eyelashes, he almost opens his mouth to scream in denial before a warm hand cups the back of his skull, closing that small gap between them. Fingers comb through his hair, and when Dick blinks it's to see Jason's eyes back to the same gorgeous teal shade they've always been. "Hey, s'okay." Jason hushes him softly, "It's okay, Dick. Go back to sleep now. Before the monster wakes up."

"Don't know if I can." Dick whispers back, swallowing as their noses brush against each other. He's keenly aware of Jason's legs tangled up in his. The warm press of his skin against his own trembling thighs.

"You can." The hand Jason has in his hair moves to push back Dick's bangs from his eyes, unsticking what sweat has rendered rigid with gentle movements of his hand. Then with careful pressure, his fingers go to Dick's neck, exploring until he finds the edges of the neutraliser patch still over his scent glands. "You're safe, Dick. Nothing's going to hurt you here."

"Sorry."

Jason opens his eyes properly with a deep sigh, even as he starts picking with his fingernails at the patch to get it off Dick's neck finally. All Dick can smell is Jason and Damian, he hadn't thought about the fact his own scent was still being kept covered. "Don't apologise. What Scarecrow did isn't your fault."

Dick arches his neck to make it easier for him. "But I came -"

"No. Not talking about it. Not here, not yet. Not until we're sure it's all out of your system." Jason finally manages to catch the edge of the patch with his fingernails, peeling it off like old cellotape from Dick's neck. He bites his lip a little at the sting. "I've been through it before, Dick, I know how it works."

For a moment all Dick can do is stare at Jason, heart aching gratefully in his chest. "Jay..."

" _Sleep_."

It's a command, fortified with a swell of scent, one that Dick can't help but obey. The presence of warm familiar omega fills his senses, and he almost feels like a kid again, curled in the comforting safety of his mothers arms.

His eyelids are drooping back down even before Jason pushes his face back in against his neck.

 

*

 

The second time Dick wakes up, he's alone.

"Jay?" He murmurs without thinking before he's fully opened his eyes, reaching out across the bed. Nothing but air greets his hand, and when he touches the surface of the mattress the sheets are cool, suggesting the other occupants of the room haven't been there for some time.

Scent lingers longer than body heat though, and Dick would be unashamed to admit that he doesn't hesitate to roll over and press his face into the space where Jason and Damian had been. Omega and child fills his lungs, sinks into his bones; his omega, his pack, his family. _His_.

Dick swallows thickly before he can look up again, eyes seeking out the clock on Jason's bedside table. It's past noon already, that explains why he's woken up alone.

The pounding in his head chooses to make itself felt as he eases himself to sitting up, licking his lips and swallowing around his dry mouth. A glass of water sat next to the clock catches Dick's grateful eye, and he doesn't hesitate to avail himself of it, drinking slow and steady until enough of his dehydration is taken care of that he thinks he can risk standing up. "Shit..." He mutters as the world still tilts, but Dick manages to gain his feet without falling over.

Despite his very real and clear urge to find Jason as soon as possible, Dick directs himself to the bathroom first on legs as shaky as a newborn colts, driven by other just as desperate needs. It's enough that as he steps into the hall he can hear the sound of the television playing in the living room, assuring him that Jason and Damian are still nearby. They're okay, he can do this.

It seems to take forever just to take a piss, then to stumble over to the sink to wash his hands and splash water on his face. Dick stares morosely into the mirror, marvelling at the morbidly messy picture his face makes. Despite all the sleep he's had his eyes are sunken hollows in his face, a shallow cut and bruise hides under his hair at his temple (he remembers getting hit only vaguely), and his skin remains a few shades paler than can be called healthy.

"Good going, Grayson." He croaks to himself, twitching back at the harsh sound of his own voice. He hadn't been screaming had he?

No. No he couldn't have been. If he had, then Damian -

"One step at a time." Dick mutters, pushing the thought away and bracing himself to head back out the hall into the main living space. Letting himself fall back into panicking will only make things worse.

And they're already pretty bad.

The truth is, Dick thinks as he steps into the living room, tugging absently at the loose shoulder of the shirt that he's wearing, he has no idea how Jason is going to react to what happened. No idea what he'll do now that Dick's out of immediate danger and the full consequences of what happened could be about to loom down upon them, whatever they may be.

"Uncle Duck!"

But at least he knows there's one person here who'll always be happy to see him.

Dick lets himself sink down onto his knees on the hardwood floor, opening his arms to receive the enthusiastic hug Damian greets him with. The toddler smells good and sweet as Dick pulls him in close and bends his head to sniff his hair, like a ray of sunshine after a long cold night. "Hey, little D."

"Are you better now?" His nephew squirms, poking his head up so he can look at Dick's face. "Mommy said you sick, so I let you sleep."

"You let me sleep, huh? That was really nice of you, Damian." Dick kisses the top of his head, swallowing when a glance across the room shows him Jason sitting at the kitchen table with his hands cupped around a mug of tea and an unreadable expression on his face. "I think I'll be okay."

Damian makes an 'ick' sound at the kiss, then grabs Dick's hand to try and tug him towards the TV. "Your eyes look like panda, and you smell bad. Play with me."

Biting his lip at that stellar observation by his nephew, Dick forces himself to shake his head and deny the demand, as tempting as it is. "I'm going to go say hi to mommy first, then I'll play with you. Okay, Dami?"

Turning his head as he looks back and forth between Dick and Jason, Damian frowns. "... promise?" he asks, with the world-weary experience of a toddler who knows exactly how adults can sometimes be the most frustrating creatures around.

"Promise." Dick holds out his little finger to him. "Pinky swear."

He smiles as Damian hooks their fingers together, shaking solemnly before letting go and returning to his toys and Sesame Street. Which leaves Dick to pull himself together, get back up on his feet, and finally face Jason.

"Hi."

Jason doesn't answer him at first, focusing on his mug of tea with a kind of laser focus that could, if he were a Kryptonian, see it bursting into flames. Dick swallows as he sits down, ignoring the still steady ache in his own head. He needs another drink of water or three before that will completely subside, yet can't bring himself to do anything but stare at Jason like a forlorn puppy, hoping its master will forgive it for piddling on the floor instead of out in the garden. "Jay -"

"You want coffee?"

"Uh, no." Dick stumbles, sinking further down into his chair. "Just water, please."

A stiff nod and Jason's up on his feet, leaving his tea where it is to cross to the cupboard, pull out a clean glass and fill it up at the sink. As soon as he sets it down on the table Dick snatches it up and drinks greedily, desperate for something to occupy his hands. "Jay." He tries to start again, only to be cut off _again_ by the man in question before he can get any further.

"We need to tell Bruce."

Dick chokes, loud enough that even Elmo isn't a big enough distraction to stop Damian from popping his head up at them over the couch. "Fine." he coughs, waving a hand, "I'm fine."

"You're pathetic." Jason sighs, moving round to pat his back. The blockage clears and Dick looks up at him shakily. "Uncle Duck's fine, Dami!"

Damian's head vanishes back down, thank God. "Are you... now?"

"He's going to want an explanation." Jason says sourly, sitting back down himself. "Seeing as how you ran over here like a chicken with your head cut off last night. Might as well be the truth."

_Oh._ That makes sense. "And -"

"There's some things we need to talk about." Jason pulls his mug back into his hands again like a security blanket. Dick notices that it has a picture of a cat on it, he'd bet anything Damian picked it out. "Not necessarily in that order."

'We need to talk'. In stories: books and films and everything in-between, those words never bode well. Dick hopes that doesn't turn out to be the case in real life. If Jason's willing to tell Bruce about their relationship it must mean he isn't being dumped right off the bat; there's still a chance for them, and Dick latches onto that reasoning with trembling mental fingers. "Okay."

The word comes out more like a squeak than anything.

Remarkably, Jason's gaze softens. "You look like shit, big bird."

"Damian said I smelled bad." He mumbles into his glass.

Jason laughs quietly, "Rank. The word he's looking for is rank. We're still working on his vocabulary. You were sweating buckets all night; that's after I got you out of the shower."

A small smile twitches onto his own lips. "Jay," Dick looks up again, following the comforting threads of Jason's scent weaving across the table, like a blanket he wants to wrap himself in. "Thank you."

This time it's Jason's turn to look uncomfortable. He's said everything he'd prepared himself to say, now it's just him, unrehearsed. "You needed me." Is his quick, mumbled response. "Wasn't going to kick you out on the street in that state."

A flash of sense memory hits Dick then, of Jason holding him tight, his voice overhead as he argued with someone about keeping Dick where he was. "The others would have come." He points out. "Alfred could have taken me back to the manor."

"They had their own shit to take care of. You were better off with me." Jason says defensively.

"I'm not arguing with you." Dick takes another swallow of his water before setting the glass down. He slides his right hand over the table towards Jason's, watching him carefully before brushing the backs of his fingers against his skin and catching the now familiar scar that runs across one knuckle. "I'm glad you did it."

Jason grunts. "I called Alfred earlier, let him know what's what. Scarecrow's back where he belongs, and Alf said he'd send someone over with the antidote when it's finished, as well as some clean clothes for you. I think it's all out of your system, but it's better to be on the safe side."

"When you say someone..."

"He promised it wouldn't be Bruce."

Dick nods, a little ashamed at how relieved that news makes him. He wonders how Alfred is planning on keeping Bruce away, before remembering who they're talking about here. If anyone can make Bruce do anything, it's Alfred. "So this talk we need to have?"

"Later. Right now, you're going to go sit and watch Sesame Street with Damian while I make us lunch, then you can get cleaned up and grab another nap before we deal with anymore shit."

Even more relief, because Dick's not ready for that either. He crooks a smile Jason's way, the best one he can manage under the circumstances, "I ever tell you it's really hot when you order me around, little wing?" 

Jason rolls his eyes, not at all fooled by his poor attempt at humour. "Save the flirting for when you can think straight, big bird. Go on, your adoring fan is waiting."

"Can I have a kiss first?"

" _Go_."

Dick starts to laugh, though it sounds more like someone is rattling a bag of chicken bones around in his chest than his usual chortle, but he wasn't kidding when he said Jason being forceful was hot. Maybe he's an abnormal alpha for it, or maybe it's just that he's secure in knowing it's not meant as a challenge against his position in the pack, but when Jason uses that tone and voice all Dick wants to do is jump him, push him down and -

Right, he thinks hurriedly, Sesame Street.

Dick stands up, feeling too wobbly to do much else anyway, and makes his over to the TV. Damian is chewing on Daw again when he sits down beside him on the floor, but looks up and smiles around the ear clenched between his teeth. It probably won't be long before Alfred has to sew it back on again, but that's toddlers for you, they think more with their teeth and instincts than adults do, having not yet learned the control to move past them. 

(At least he was out of the biting phase now, that had been unpleasant for everyone but Jason, who had thought the whole thing hilarious.)

"Hey, little D," he greets his nephew, conscious still of how raw his voice sounds. "What're we watching?"

"Ses'me Street."

"Cool, I love Sesame Street." He can't bring himself to sound more enthusiastic than that, but Damian doesn't seem to notice - or care, and it's not long before he's snuggled up against Dick's side with the older alpha's arm draped around him while they learn about the wonders of the letter 'S' and the number '4' together from the assortment of colourful characters on screen.

It's exactly what he needs after last night, and Dick belatedly wonders if Jason sensed that too. Omegas were supposed to be intuitive to the needs of the pack, fitting into their role as caregivers, but he daren't bring it up. Jason probably wouldn't appreciate it if he did, even as a compliment to his skills as a mother.

Lunch turns out to be scrambled eggs on toast, plain fare that's easy to swallow, even for Dick, whose stomach roils unpleasantly at the first bite. It forces him to eat slowly, lingering even when the eggs turn cold and unpleasant, until Jason eventually sighs and nudges him in the ribs with his elbow. "Okay Dick, I think you've had enough. Give me the plate, it's time for you to go grab that shower and get some more rest."

"But Jay -"

"Nope, shower and nap. That's what sick people have to do. Right, Damian?"

"Yes!" Damian chimes in, nodding importantly.

Dick smiles, he really does feel tired. And gross, really, really gross. Like six hours of walking through the sewers kind of gross. "Okay, okay. Anything you say, boss."

He hands over his plate to Jason, then accepts another hug from Damian before standing and going to the bathroom. The hot water feels heavenly on his skin as he showers, and when Dick does make it back into Jason's room (Jason's _den_ some part of him crows hungrily) it's to find clean sheets and clothes waiting for him on the bed. He dries off and slips into both without hesitation, pushing his face into Jason's pillow, which despite the change in bedding miraculously still smells like him.

He must have done it on purpose, Dick thinks, rubbing his face against the soft cotton until his own scent is mixed with Jason's. Must have, and that thought warms him enough to let him drift off to sleep.

 

*

 

It's Tim at the door when Jason answers it, somehow he's not surprised. It was a toss up between him and Cass, what with Alfred playing middle-man between them and Bruce at the moment. God knows he owes that man a lot, and Jason swears he'll make it up to him as soon as things calm down again.

"Did you bring it?" He asks Tim as lets him in, feeling a little like he's participating in a clandestine drug deal.

"You think I'd show up here if I hadn't?" In slacks and a plain red sweater over a white collared shirt, Tim looks about as far away from a drug dealer as you can get, at least until he holds up a small black case in answer to Jason's question; doubtless it has a needle containing the antidote to Scarecrow's latest formula inside. He also has a backpack slung over his shoulder, which Jason guesses must contain the change of clothing for Dick that he'd also asked for.

Jason sighs in relief as he locks the door behind him, resisting the urge to sink back against it. "Thank fuck."

"How is he?"

"Okay, more or less. He's napping now, but you know Dick, nothing keeps him down for long." Jason snatches the case out of Tim's hand, opening it just enough to glimpse the capped needle inside before closing it again. "He probably doesn't need this but..."

"You need to be sure." Tim fills in for him when Jason hesitates, "I get it. It won't hurt him to have the shot even if he's already clean."

"I know that." Crap, he doesn't mean to snap at the kid, but there's a lot of stress of his own that Jason's been forced to keep a lid on for Dick and Damian's sakes today. He's about ready to crack himself by this point, and it still galls him a little that Tim managed to figure him and Dick out by himself, the same as Alfred did. "Can you watch Damian for me while I take care of this?"

Tim nods. He doesn't flinch, but there still something downcast about his eyes that Jason only notices as an afterthought. Unfortunately, his concern over Dick is a more powerful priority than whatever's bothering the junior member of his pack. "Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not." Jason turns his head, calling over his shoulder to his son. "Damian! Uncle Tim's here, come say hi!"

There's the sound a small avalanche hurtling towards them as Damian comes running up to the door, skidding over the laminated wood just as Tim crouches down to catch him. "Tim-Tim!"

"Hi Damian!" Their heads knock lightly together, and Jason twitches as Tim hugs Damian close, burrowing his nose in his hair. He really ought to start charging people for the privilege of smelling his child, then he wouldn't need to take Bruce's money to get by. "How are you today?"

"Okay." Damian giggles at the treatment. "I drawed and watched Ses'me street, an' I helped Mommy look after Duck."

"Wow! That's a lot of things you've done today. Can I see some of the pictures you drew?" Tim looks up at Jason, who realises he's just been standing there watching and not moving. "We'll be fine", the beta mouths silently, and with a steadying breath Jason nods, turning and heading for his bedroom at a brisk pace while Damian drags Tim over to see his artwork.

He's careful to shut the door behind him when he steps inside, sparing a glance for the bag he'd shoved unceremoniously into the corner of the room. Inside it is Dick's uniform and gear, as well as the discarded domino mask Jason very nearly hadn't been quick enough to stop Damian from finding when they got up this morning. He damn near had a heart attack over it, especially since he didn't know if it also had fear toxin residue on it like the rest of the suit.

Jason had washed his hands _very_ thoroughly afterwards.

"Dick?" He calls softly as he approaches the bed, ire dropping again once he see's the way the alpha has curled around his pillow; the one Jason rubbed against his neck to re-scent it after he changed the bedding. "Come on, pretty bird, wake up."

Dick stirs at the first touch of Jason's hand on his shoulder, blinking blurrily in the dim light. The curtains are closed, it's late in the afternoon, and late enough in the fall that it's already getting dark outside at this time, so Jason reaches over to flip the lamp on to see him better by. "Jay?"

"Yeah. Tim's here, he brought the new antidote. You going to sit up so I can give it to you?"

"Mm, do I get a lollipop after?"

Jason snorts softly at the joke, if it can even be called that. Still, a quipping Nightwing is better than a quiet one. "I look like a nurse to you?"

Dick squints up at him. Then a slow sly smirk spreads over his face as his eyes run up and down Jason's body in an obvious way.

God damn it, he walked into that one.

"Dick, you have about five seconds to sit up before I kick you out of the bed and stick this needle somewhere you really won't like."

"What are you, channelling Doc Thompkins? That's no fun." Dick grumbles as he sits up, head hanging as he groans. Despite the theatrics, Jason can't help thinking he already looks better than he did two hours ago when Jason sent him off to bed. It's amazing what food and a little sleep can do for a person alone, outside of any medication.

"Suck it up." Jason sits on the bed beside him, taking Dick's arm in his hands and turning it until he finds a vein. He uncaps the needle with his teeth, squints at the dosage and then figures that if that's the amount Alfred put in there, it must be the amount he meant Dick to take.

Dick hisses a little as the needle slides in, but otherwise sits perfectly still until Jason's finishes injecting it. He rubs his arm as soon as it's done, "You think by now I'd be used to needles."

"Being used to them doesn't mean liking them." Jason says, once he's capped it again to be safe, before putting the needle back in the case. He sets the box on the bedside table before reaching over to brush Dick's hair out of his face. "Feeling any better yet?"

His forehead doesn't feel too warm, but this is fear toxin, not a regular illness like they'd told Damian. The motion comes naturally to Jason though, he's used to dealing with a sick child far more than he is a recovering adult.

"Mostly. Just drained, but give me some more sleep and a couple square meals and I'll be right as rain." Dick's hand comes up, touching Jason's. There's still the same wariness to his eyes that he had earlier, one that Jason can't blame him for, not with the way he's feeling. Still, he lets Dick take his hand and bring it down to his mouth, where he kisses the backs of Jason's knuckles softly. "Can I say sorry again?"

"I guess." Jason watches him, drawing his legs in under the edge of the bed. His bed, which Dick is currently occupying.

"And thank you. I can't thank you enough for what you did, Jay." One, two, three and four. Dick kisses each knuckle individually, before just holding Jason's hand between both of his own in his lap. "I know you must be upset at -"

"You have no idea how I am, Dick." Jason turns his head away. "You came here like that, reeking of fear toxin. You scared the crap out of me, and it's a miracle Damian didn't wake up sooner. If he had we'd be in a lot bigger mess than we are now."

"I didn't mean to." Dick swallows, "You gotta believe me, Jay. I never would have if I'd had any sort of control over my actions. The last I ever want to do is hurt you or Damian."

"I know."

God Jason knows it, he's had a lot of time to think about what happened while Dick's been sleeping. It's precisely Dick's need not to let him or Damian come to harm that got them here, Jason's sure of it.

"If you want me to go now, I completely understand."

"Christ no." Dick's barking completely up the wrong tree with that offer, but of course he'd make it. The selfless prick. "That's the last thing I want."

He can tell he's taken Dick by surprise. "... really?"

"You want me to say different?" Jason glares, while Dick hurried shakes his head.

"Of course not."

"Good, because fuck you if you thought otherwise."

"Jason." Dick says, a little shocked by the strength of his response. His fingers still stroke over the back of his hand, but Jason's not done yet.

"Yeah, I'm mad, Dick. I'm mad at you for what happened, and mad at myself because I know it's not your fault what you do under the influence. Fuck, I'd hit you in your perfect teeth if I could, but I can't; not when you came here because you were scared, and some part of you was either afraid for me, or thought you could trust me to keep you safe - it's hard to tell which, you weren't making an awful lot of sense at the time, but I got the gist of it." he swallows, meaning to stop there, but then his traitorous mouth just keeps on going. "Truth is, Dick, _I'm_ scared. I'm scared at how much I don't want you to leave, at how even something like this isn't enough reason for me to send you packing. I even tried to convince myself I should while you were asleep, but I couldn't. I thought... I thought I had my whole damn life figured out, I got it straight, stable. A home for me and Damian, hell, I'm even on speaking terms with the old man. But then you had to go and kiss me, and now it's all up in the air again."

Jason turns his head away, this conversation wasn't supposed to be happening yet; no scratch that, this conversation wasn't supposed to be happening at _all_. When he'd told Dick they needed to talk earlier, he hadn't meant about _this_ , but now he's started it's like the words just keep falling out of him. He can't stop them, he can't stop himself, and it's yet again another example of the terrifying ways in which Dick has usurped the stability of the life Jason's built for himself.

He's not kidding when he says he'd tried to convince himself to tell Dick to leave while the alpha was sleeping. How in some ways he yearned to go back to the simplicity of the life that had been his only two weeks prior, but he also knows, in a voice that speaks louder than his doubts and worries, that it's already two late for that. If Jason sent Dick away now, he'd only torment himself afterwards by thinking about what he'd given up.

Jason can't go backwards, which means the only choice is to step up, deal with what happened, and move on, whatever the consequences. Sometimes it feels like his life - or lives as the case may be - has been nothing but those choices.

Death. A child. Now this.

"Jason..."

"I wanted you since I was fourteen, Dick." He finally confesses, keeping his gaze averted as his heart thuds in his chest. "So if you think I'm letting you get out of this that easily, you've got another thing coming."

There's a moment of silence that has his teeth grinding together, feeling the slick sweatiness of his own palm still held between Dick's while he waits for some kind of answer, then the bed creaks, and that's all the warning Jason has before Dick is on him.

Jason starts as his head is turned by a strong hand, pre-empting his lips being claimed roughly by a mouth that really needs a good brushing. Dick kisses him like there's no tomorrow, like he's drowning and Jason is the life-giving air pulled sweetly into his lungs. Any sign of frailty is gone from his limbs as he hauls the omega down onto the mattress beneath him.

Jason lets Dick do it, clinging and digging his fingers into his back hard enough to bruise as the alpha slides between his legs and growls. It's an unmistakably possessive noise, one that leaves Jason so shocked at what it does to him that he doesn't even think to argue the position when Dick grinds them together; heat pools in his stomach like liquid _fire_ , and it's all he can do not to let out a submissive whine.

"Jay, Jay. God, _Jay_." Dick breathes against his mouth, "You really mean that?"

"Ask me again and I'll break your teeth." Is all Jason manages to say, face red as his curls fall across his eyes, obscuring his vision.

Dick laughs, the sound openly joyous, and it's such a relief to hear after last night that Jason can't help smiling back up at him, even though the fear he talked about is still there. Dick is a force of nature, that's the only way to explain it, a hurricane you can't help getting swept up into. He kisses Jason again, a little softer, then leans their heads together, "I won't go anywhere, Jason. I promise. You're mine. As long as you want to be, you're mine, and whatever I have to do to make this worth it to you, I will. You won't regret it, Jay, I swear."

He swallows thickly, nodding before leaning up and kissing Dick again himself, soaking in his presence and the base visceral reaction his own body has to the scent and presence of _alpha_ over it. It doesn't feel as bad to be underneath him as Jason had worried it would, and when Dick rolls his hips against him again, thrusting his tongue forwards into his mouth, Jason almost thinks that this could be it, could be that moment. He could let Dick have him the whole way, despite what he told Roy only yesterday.

Almost, but not quite. There's still a problem with that. Well, actually there's a few, but one major one stands out above the rest at this moment.

"Dick," he pants when their mouths part, and Dick's slid down a little to where he can pay attention to Jason's neck. "Dick, we have to stop."

A low growl answers him, accompanied by the slick feeling of a tongue over sensitive skin, and Jason can't help but yip as the tip of it slips over his scent gland. His fingers dig in tighter to Dick's back, he almost can't remember what he meant to say when Dick does that. The graze of teeth that follows only makes it worse.

_No_ , no damn it.

Jason moves his hands round to the front of Dick's shoulders, placing them there with open palms. He pushes, enough to force Dick a few inches back away from him. " _Dick_."

"What?" Dick replies, looking out of it himself, in a different way than he did earlier. His midnight blue eyes are dark pools swallowed up by the black of his pupils. As Jason watches his tongue darts out, licking over his own lips like he's chasing the taste of Jason that lingers there.

"We have to stop." Jason repeats, shivering. He's wet already, and they're both hard; stopping is the last thing he wants to do. Unfortunately there's a tiny responsibility, as well as a not-so-tiny brother, waiting for them both in the living room right now. "Damian. And Tim, Tim's here."

It's not as effective as a cold shower, but the words still have their desired effect. Dick's eyes clear and he groans, head hanging for a moment before he shakes it. "Right, yeah. Okay. We have to stop. _Fuck_."

He rolls himself off of Jason with some effort, and Jason sighs as he lies back, trying to think about something that isn't Dick Grayson's stupidly sexy self as the man himself flops down beside him on the bed. It takes a couple minutes, but his cock finally softens again to Jason's relief; he'll still have to change his underwear before going back out to the living room though.

"So," Dick says after a moment, sounding like he's got his breath back too. "That all you wanted to talk about?"

Jason reaches over and pinches him in the thigh. "No." Not even close, "But the rest can wait until we're actually alone."

"Okay." Dick snatches his hand before he can pull it back, weaving their fingers together like he can't stand to stop touching Jason. It feels nice, even nicer than making out, lying here and holding hands in bed like a real couple. "Guess we should go out there then. Say hi before Damian freaks Tim out or something."

"What are you trying to say about my kid, Dick?"

"That he's a lot like his mama." Dick eyes sparkle in the lamplight when they turn to look at him. He leans over and pecks Jason lightly on the lips one more time before sitting up. "And Tim's Tim."

Jason rolls his eyes but follows Dick's example, letting go of his hand to rub his face. He stands and crosses to his dresser, pulling open a drawer and taking out a clean pair of boxers. Dick's eyes bore into his back when he strips off his jeans, then changes his underwear before pulling them back on.

_Down boy_ , Jason thinks, smirking down at his hands as he refastens his jeans. Knowing the effect he has on Dick is starting to be a real power rush, now that he's actually gotten used to the idea. Dick clearly loves it too, judging by the way he slips up behind Jason once he's finishes, hands sliding forwards over his hips and then linking together across the front of his stomach. The hot rush of air over the back of his neck makes Jason shiver.

"Little wing..." Dick murmurs, lips pressed against the bumps of his spine. There's a poise to him, a tremble; an unspoken question.

Jason stands for a while, considering the weight of it, then after licking his lips bows his head forwards. "Okay."

The press of Dick's teeth on the ridge of his spine is gentle at first, low enough down that Jason could still cover it with his shirt collar if he wishes. Then the pressure grows firmer, making him gasp as those teeth cut deeper into his skin and Dick sucks _hard_ , working his jaw and worrying the flesh until there will be a definite bruise left in his wake.

When he pulls back Jason can still feel the lingering imprint of his teeth in his neck; the sensation makes his mind cloud pleasantly and he lets out a tired, softly pleased hum as he looks back at Dick.

That's one more barrier down between them.

 

*

 

Tim watches Jason and Dick enter the living room from the hallway, and knows at once that they've been up to something more than what Jason had said he was going to do. The redness of their mouths and the residual cloud of pheromones hovering around them confirms it, and he barely restrains himself from groaning aloud at the implication. 

It's not an unpleasant scent, far from it, but it's also really not an image he wanted, thank you very much. Dick's firmly routed in his mind as a sibling, despite their lack of blood relation, and Jason is... well, Jason. They'd had too rocky a start once they'd officially met for Tim to ever think that way of him.

And Dick would probably kill him for it now if he ever did.

"Tim!" The man himself steps around Jason once they get closer, sweeping Tim up into a hug he isn't so sure he deserves, not with what he has to tell them today. But he still hugs Dick back, because some things no one can say no to. "You okay?"

"I'm pretty sure I should be the one asking you that." Tim says pointedly, drawing in a sharp breath. Dick looks wan under the natural golden-brown tone of his skin, but otherwise okay despite the bruise peeking out from under the hair at his temple. The observation doesn't really help the way he feels though. "I'm so sorry, Dick."

"Sorry?" 

The confusion on Dick's face stabs into Tim's gut, as he realises that Dick must not remember the details of last night. The one's he hadn't been able to admit to Jason when he commed into their channel last night. 

Crap. Crap, and now Jason's looking oddly at him too, eyes narrowed under the heavy weight of his brows. He should have asked Dick for a word in private.

"I..."

"Dami," Jason says, reminding them all that Damian's nearby, crayons in hand as he scribbles down more pictures. He'd decided that Tim needed some to take with him back up to the manor, and none of the one's he'd drawn previously that day would do. "Mommy, Tim and Duck are going to go sit in the kitchen. Stay here and watch cartoons, okay?"

"Kay." Damian says distractedly, too focused on sketching what looks like... actually, Tim can't tell what it looks like. A brown blob with some spokes coming out of it, it could be a spider, or a dog, or any other number of things. He'll have to ask before he takes it home, to make sure Bruce and Alfred will know what to say the next time Damian comes to visit.

Dick draws him over to the kitchen. Jason's apartment has an open floor layout; the kitchen and living area really two parts of the same large room, with a hallway leading to the bedrooms, bathroom and utility room on the other side. 

It's convenient at times like this, making it easy for them to sit down at the kitchen table and have a semi-private conversation while still being able to keep an eye on Damian.

"Okay, baby bird." Jason says, once they're all in their seats. Tim deliberately chose the one diagonally across from him, in hopes of giving himself more distance from what could soon be an angry omega. "What are you sorry for?"

"Jay." Dick says warningly. He's sat next to Jason, opposite Tim, which also makes him feel better, since Dick will be in the prime position to get between them if necessary.

It's eerily familiar of when Dick was first trying to encourage Jason and Tim get along; back when Jason would only aggressively refer to him as the 'replacement' with bared teeth each time. Of course, those interventions all happened up at the manor, where Alfred or Cass could watch over Damian so he wouldn't have to hear the bitter resentment in his mother's voice.

Tim's thumb rubs over the bite scar on his index finger.

"It was my fault what happened to you last night, Dick." he confesses, "You got hit because I messed up."

Dick's eyes widen, then narrow. Tim can see him trying to think back, plucking at the mess of memories that must be in his head now. He can't say for certain what Dick saw when he was under the influence of the toxin, but Tim's privy to a lot more information about Dick's life than most. He's extremely familiar with all the traumas his brother had been through in life, from the initial loss of his parents, to the cruelty of Blockbuster's devastating attempt to destroy everything Nightwing cared about, and all the losses of friends beyond that. Every member of their family carried enough emotional baggage that they were perfectly capable of conjuring nightmare fuel for themselves on a nightly basis without any help, and when fear toxin accelerated the process it was a miracle none of them ever ended up as babbling incoherent messes at Arkham. 

"Tim, that's not... it's okay." Dick shakes his head slowly. "You didn't -"

"I should've seen the guy coming. I didn't, so you had to get in the way." he reminds him, before risking a look at Jason. "It's my fault Dick came here, Jay. So if you're mad about it, you should blame me, not him." 

"Bullshit."

Tim starts. "What?"

Dick looks similarly surprised as Jason's blunt retort, "I said bullshit. Don't try and play martyr here, Tim."

"But -"

"Even if you did make a mistake, shit happens. It's a dangerous job we got. But you can't take the fall for this idiot," he jerks his thumb at Dick, "and his actions. Dick'll always put himself between others and danger, you know that."

"Um, thanks?" Dick says, looking unsure if he's supposed to take that as a compliment or not. He breathes in deep before looking back at Tim. "Jason's right, Tim. It's kind of blurry, but I don't regret protecting you. Better I have a bad night's sleep than you get your head caved in by some panicking civilian with a baseball bat."

A bad night's sleep was putting it extremely mildly, but it was always Dick's way to downplay the severity of his own injuries, physical or otherwise. Tim's lost track of the amount of times Alfred literally had to either sedate or threaten him so he would stay down and recover from the wounds he got in the line of duty. In many ways Dick is more like Bruce than he'd ever want to admit.

Still, the guilt inside Tim doesn't ease. Neither does the memory of Dick's shout of "Robin!" right before he pushed Tim out of the way of his frightened attacker, and the sickening crack of the baseball bat hitting him. Luckily it was the sound of a gas mask shattering rather than Dick's skull, and Tim had subdued the attacker immediately after, but by the time he turned back to Dick to check that he was okay his brother was already out of sight.

He ducks his head down, drawing his shoulders in and slipping into a submissive pose without thinking about it. Both Dick and Jason rank higher in their pack he does; Dick naturally, as his elder and alpha; Jason because Tim had no desire to fight him over it, and more interest in maintaining the stability of their pack - which had happened almost the moment he'd backed down and accepted that hierarchy between them.

If it makes Jason feel more secure to hold the spot above him, fine. Tim's content with the leadership of his second pack network in the Titans, he doesn't need that feeling at home.

(Or at least he was, until the events that transpired a few months ago.)

"But you guys..."

"We're fine." Dick says soothingly, with a glance at Jason, whose cheeks look a little redder when he follows it up with, "We've worked it out. Mostly."

Yeah, Tim just bets they did. 

It's not the worst news he has to deliver. "Bruce suspects something."

"Figures. How bad is it?" Jason asks, looking dead serious again. His discomfort rises across his shoulders, a tense line that doesn't ease even when Dick grasps his hand on the surface of the table.

Tim shakes his head. "Not sure. But you didn't answer the comm when he called you last night, so -"

"Oh fuck me." Jason's eyes go wide in his suddenly pale face. "I threw it on the floor when we went to sleep. _Tim_ , tell me he didn't come over here."

"Um..."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

Dick squeezes Jason's hand tighter, then despite Tim being present he wraps his arm around him and draws Jason in close to his side, kissing his temple. "Hey, hey it's okay, Jay. We already decided we were going to tell him, right?"

"Yeah, but on our terms! Not like this, Dick."

"This doesn't mean he's figured it all out." Dick continues, in a soothing patient tone that Tim has always envied him for and never quite been able to emulate. It's the voice he uses for talking down the jumpers they sometimes find on the roofs and bridges, the one that can calm even the most volatile of situations. "It's not the first time I've ended up cuddling with someone after getting hit by Scarecrow. He probably just peeked in, saw that we were okay, and then left."

Jason shudders, and Tim doesn't blame him. Bruce's invasions of privacy might come from a place of caring, but that doesn't change the fact that they are just that, an invasion of privacy. He should know better, especially with Jason. "We gotta go up there tonight."

"Jay -"

"If we don't, he'll be down here. Either tonight or tomorrow. I'm not giving him the advantage of making the first move." 

He's talking about facing Bruce like he's walking onto a battlefield, and Tim's sure in Jason's mind that's just what it is. Something about their relationship was still and always would be irreparably cracked, no matter how far they'd come; plagued by the perceived crimes on either side.

Jason had killed, Bruce didn't. It was an ideological division, a fatal flaw in the programming.

Tim starts when Jason looks at him sharply. "Tim, you busy tonight?"

"Um, no?"

"Good. Congratulations, you're now my babysitting bitch."

"Jason." Dick tries again, hand easing up to Jason's shoulder, rubbing gently. Tim can pick up the pheromones he's putting out, scent rising in a reaction to his omega's distress. "You need to slow down, it can wait till -"

"No, Dick. It can't." Jason shakes his head, resisting the calming lure. "It has to be -"

"Mommy?"

They all cut off at once. Jason looks down at Damian, who has crept up to the side of the table and is now watching them with narrowed jade eyes. His gaze flicks between each adult, lips pursed unhappily. Then he's scrambling onto Jason's lap, hauling himself up with his hands until Jason pushes his chair back from the table and helps him. Tim watches, amazed as Damian links his arms around Jason's neck and growls, kicking out with his feet until Dick lets go of his mother - which he does with a particularly shocked expression.

"Dami?" Jason murmurs, putting his arms back round his son. His hand splays across the toddlers back, rubbing up and down.

"Go'way." Damian grumbles, glaring still at Dick and Tim, "Mommy upset, you g'way."

Distantly, Tim thinks that he would love to take a picture right now, if only he dared reach for his phone.

Dick holds up his hands, "Little D, I'm not -"

Damian snarls again. Coming from him it's closer to adorable than it is threatening, but it's the very fact he does it at all that surprises them; Dick especially, who Damian had warmed up to first out of their pack, and quite frankly adored the most after his mother. Being three years old - and unaware of the larger events going on around him - Damian can't possibly understand why exactly Jason is upset, he only sees and scents that he is, prompting him to act in his defence.

"It's not Tim and Duck's fault, Dami." Jason keeps rubbing his son's back, trying to soothe him. Tim can visibly see Jason trying to reign himself in. "I'm okay."

"No!" Damian shakes his head, another growl escaping his throat. He bares perfect little white baby teeth at them, clinging tighter to his mother all the while. "Go away!"

Jason licks his lips, then seems to make a decision. He stands up, gathering Damian up in his arms, "I'll be back." He tells Tim and Dick, then to his son, "Come on, little man."

Tim watches them walk down the hallway and disappear into Damian's room (Damian still glaring at them over Jason's shoulder) before looking back at Dick, who's rubbing his chest where Damian kicked him with a shocked expression on his face.

"You okay?" Tim asks quietly.

"Yeah, I... just. Wow. Haven't seen Damian get like that before."

Tim has. But it was a long time ago. "He'll be okay. He's just worried about Jason. It's not really against you."

"We haven't told him about us yet." Dick confesses, "I don't know if he'd understand or..." Uncertainty passes across Dick's face like a dark cloud, as if for the first time he's considering that Damian might not react positively to the change in his and Jason's relationship. Damian's had Jason to himself almost all his life, and he is an alpha, even if just a baby one.

"Come on, Dick. It's you. I'm sure he'll be fine." 

Dick laughs, though it's small and tired. Tim's struck again by the lingering signs of his brush with fear toxin on his skin, the dark circles under his eyes and the bruise at his temple, mostly hidden under his hair. "I hope so, baby bird. I love that kid."

He stands up and walks round the table then, sitting next to Tim and looping his arm around his neck to draw him in against his side. The contact feels good, as does Dick's presence so close, grounding him in the wake of everything. "Hey, are _you_ okay, Tim?"

The question makes his stomach curdle uncomfortably. "I think so."

"You think so or you know so?"

Tim lifts one of his shoulders in a small shrug, which says everything really.

"I don't blame you, Tim; neither does Jason. You didn't do anything wrong." Dick hastens to assure him. "These things just happen sometimes in our line of work."

"Yeah, well, it feels like they happen a lot lately." His voice sounds small, even to his own ears.

There's a sharp sound of rushing air as Dick inhales, then Tim finds himself being pulled up and round. The hold on his shoulders turns into a full-on Dick Grayson hug, with Tim's face squished in against his older brothers throat. One of Dick's hands starts to rub soothing circles into the back of his neck as he rocks him.

Tim lets out a soft sound in response, the action having its desired effect as he melts into Dick's touch. The calming pheromones he initially released for Jason now turn their attention to Tim.

"I know, kiddo. I know." Dick rests his chin on top of his head."But I'm here for you, you know that right? Anytime you need me, even if it's just to talk, you can call and I'll be there."

He nods, small and stiff. Scent and presence does so much more than words can, but they're still nice to hear anyway.

Dick holds him for a long time after that, before eventually drawing away and brushing Tim's hair back from his eyes. "You need a haircut, and maybe a holiday, baby bird."

"Like you can talk." Tim reaches up and rubs at his eyes discreetly, pleased when Dick does him the courtesy of looking away. The older man snorts, then ruffles his hair afterwards, aware of just how impossible it is for any of them to take a break from doing what they do.

"C'mon, help me find where Jason hides his take out menus. Somehow, I don't think any of us are going to be in the mood to cook tonight."

It's an unspoken invitation to stay for dinner without Jason's approval, but one Tim can't help tacitly agreeing to nonetheless. If Dick thinks it will be all right, then well, Tim believes him. It's a practice that's always served him well in life so far.

 

*

 

Tim ends up leaving around nine o'clock, an hour after Jason finally gets Damian to go to bed, and five minutes after Jason himself announces that he's going to get a shower and it becomes clear they're not going to go haring off up to Wayne Manor to drop a bombshell on Bruce that night.

It's a relief to Dick, who still doesn't feel fit enough to stand toe to toe with his mentor should Bruce turn out to be less than thrilled with the news. He's looking forward instead to spending the rest of the evening quietly with Jason, maybe talking out the rest of what he wants to discuss and getting things straight between the two of them before anything else.

By this point, Dick really should know better than to think anything could ever be so simple.

He says goodbye to Tim at the front door, the teenager leaving with a promise to pass the message on to Bruce that they'll be by to see him in the morning, and it's barely been closed two minutes before the distinct sound of the main living room window sliding open has the hairs raising on the back of his neck.

"No."

"Dick -"

" _No_." Dick turns around, glaring at the dark shadow of his mentor as cold air seeps into the apartment. "Not tonight."

He feels Bruce glare at him, even through the weight of the cowl. "We need to talk."

"We do." Dick agrees readily, he's not going to deny that. "But _tomorrow_. Bruce, you can't just come in here and -"

"You're sleeping with Jason."

The accusation is thrown out into the air between without preamble, and the audacity of it momentarily takes Dick's breath away.

"We're _dating_." He manages to clarify, beyond the angry snarl that twists his lips.

To hear the relationship he and Jason have started put in such blunt terms, as if it's just about the base and physical, sets Dick even more on edge. What they have isn't just sex, isn't just _fucking_. He loves Jason, as family, as a lover, maybe one day - if God willing, they work out that far - a _mate_.

Forget what he thought earlier, it turns out Dick absolutely is ready to have this conversation with Bruce after all. The only problem is, it's not his conversation to have alone, as much as his first instinct is to protect Jason by keeping him out of it.

"How long?" 

Dick keeps his gaze level, his hands easy and loose by his sides. He can't smell Bruce, but Bruce can damn well smell him. He needs to keep cool if he wants to stop this from escalating. "Take off the cowl, Bruce." 

"What?"

"You want to talk about this now? _Fine_. But I want to speak to you, Bruce Wayne; the man who raised me, my _alpha_ , not Batman."

"Dick," Bruce growls warningly, taking a step closer, but Dick doesn't back down. He lifts his head up, tilts his chin.

"You don't get to just barge into Jason's home and have it all your way. He's in the shower right now, but he'll be out soon. And finding you here is already going to be a bad shock for him, so take off the cowl, sit down, and wait for me to go get him. Then we'll tell you everything together, _calmly_ , because your grandson is sleeping just down the hall, and that kid and his mother have been through enough already without having to see me and you go to town on each other."

"Is that what you think is going to happen here?"

"You tell me."

Bruce watches him unnervingly through white lenses for a whole minute while Dick stands his ground. Then, just when Dick thinks he isn't going to do it, he reaches up and pushes the cowl back off his face. "Fine."

Dick releases a breath he didn't even realise he was holding at the reveal of clear blue eyes and dark ruffled hair. His alpha's eyes are only slightly less intimidating than the blank white lenses of Batman's mask had been. "Okay. Okay."

He turns his back on Bruce, slowly so as not to raise his ire by appearing disrespectful, and heads for the bathroom. Inside, the waters still running, but it stops when Dick knocks on the door and cracks it open.

"Jay, I'm coming in, okay?"

He listens to the sound of Jason climbing out of the shower, the whisper of a towel being grabbed off the rack and wrapped around his body (and normally the concept of a wet and naked Jason would have Dick feeling all kinds of interested, but not now) before there's an acknowledgement. Dick takes another deep breath before stepping inside, trying not to imagine what Bruce might be thinking in the living room. "Hey."

"What's going on, couldn't hold your bat-bladder any longer?" Jason turns to him with a smile, wet hair plastered back over his head. He's completely unaware of what's going on, but Dick's expression must tell him something's wrong, because the smile drops a second later. "Dick?"

"Bruce is here." Dick just comes right out with it, feeling terrible as the colour drains from Jason's face. A feat considering the way the hot water has reddened his skin. "He came in just after Tim left."

"Through the window?"

"Yeah."

"I knew it." Is the first thing from Jason's mouth, followed by bitter laughter. "I fucking... _fuck_." 

"Hey." He says soothingly, stepping closer, reaching out with his hands, waiting until he's sure Jason isn't about to flinch away before taking hold of him by the shoulders. Dick rubs warm circles over Jason's wet skin with his thumbs, "I know. But I think he's willing to listen to us. I told him I'd get you so we could say it together," he swallows, looking into Jason's wide eyes. And oh, that look on his face just does all sorts of unfortunate things to the parts of Dick that are alpha before anything else.

The urge to lift Jason up, box him in, is so strong that he literally has to swallow against it. As nice as it would be to shepherd Jason to bed and wrap him in pillows and blankets and other soft things while Dick handled Bruce, it wouldn't actually be conducive to helping the situation any. Jason's not the type of omega to let any alpha face his problems for him, it's part of what Dick loves and respects most about him.

"Okay." Jason says finally, "Okay... let's... shit, clothes. Clothes would be good."

"Clothes would be great." Dick agrees, smiling. "I mean, I appreciate you in just the towel, but I don't think - ow, Jay!

"Moron." Jason growls, shaking his head at the poor attempt to lighten up the situation. He's obviously not in the mood, so Dick quits while he's ahead, watching as Jason pulls away from him to the pile of clean clothing he'd brought with him into the bathroom and starts to get dressed. Dick quickly averts his eyes at that point; less out of politeness and more out of a need to keep his brain on track. Walking back out to Bruce oozing arousal pheromones towards Jason would be a surefire way to turn the situation south fast, like waving a red flag at a bull.

But that doesn't stop him from catching Jason just before they exit the bathroom and kissing him, just once on the mouth. A reassurance, a promise. Jason's hands land on his chest when he does it, but he doesn't push him away. 

"I'm with you, okay?" Dick murmurs when he pulls back, looking into worried teal eyes. "No matter what happens with Bruce, it doesn't change anything between you and me."

He wants to believe in Bruce, that he'll do the right thing and not be a total ass about this, but at the same time he knows how attached Bruce is to his sense of control, and how he can be when he feels that control is threatened; whether it be in his personal or professional lives. When Jason came back into their pack in the first place Dick had honestly been impressed by how well Bruce had handled it, but that was different; he'd had a pretty big stake in wanting Jason to come home with his son. 

Probably not so much with Dick and Jason initiating a relationship with each other.

Jason sucks in a deep breath and nods, then, without any further word to Dick, he brushes past him, marching out of the door and down the hall, leaving the alpha scrambling to keep up.

Bruce is just where Dick left him, still standing in the middle of the living room with folded arms. Jesus, would it have killed him to sit down? To do _anything_ to make himself look less threatening? Dick bristles as Jason stops in front of him, only barely keeping from placing himself between the alpha and omega.

Between parent and child. Anyone who'd ever gotten between Jason and Damian could tell you how bad an idea that was.

"B." Jason says flatly, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Jason." Bruce replies. He's kept the cowl off at least, that's something. 

"Still don't know how to use a front door, huh?"

Bruce actually grimaces, "I was -"

"Whatever, park your ass down." Jason grabs Dick's hand, using it to haul him over to the couch, while looking expectantly from Bruce to the chair that usually goes unused in the corner of the living room. "You came here for a reason."

Jason doesn't let go of Dick's hand when they sit down. That simple action is telling enough of what he's feeling underneath his casual flippancy on it's own, even without scent betraying him.

It's kind of remarkable to see Bruce doing as he's told, sitting down in the chair with the great expanse of his cape pooling out from behind him and down onto the floor like liquid shadow. Batman looks wrong in a domestic setting, larger than life, and Dick licks his lips, nosing the air and wishing he'd had the forethought to demand Bruce take off his scent patches too.

"I did." Bruce says, jaw clenched tight enough to bite through steel as his eyes flicker between them. Then finally they settle on Dick, going back to the question he asked before he left to get Jason. "How long?"

"Two weeks." Dick replies promptly, meeting his gaze.

"You hid it from me. _Why?_ " There's the accusation, the anger. The assumption that if they'd hidden it from him, it must be because they were up to something Bruce would disapprove of. No wonder he'd come storming over here as soon as evening fell.

Jason answers this time. "Because I didn't want you to know."

Bruce's gaze leaves Dick and zeroes in on Jason. "Why?" he asks again, plain and simple.

"Because..." Jason swallows, Dick can feel the sweat on his palm as it slides against his. "Maybe because you don't have a God damn right to know everything right away, Bruce! You ever think of that? Maybe because I wanted to be able to enjoy something without you breathing down my neck, disapproving the way you always do."

"Jason -"

"I'm not a kid anymore. Neither's Dick. We can make our own choices without having to run them by you first."

"Is that what you think I'd do? Disapprove?"

Dick feels his heart jump into his throat and sit there, pulsing and strangling any words he himself might have as Bruce leans forward. There's something in his eyes, something that looks curiously hurt, if only for a brief second.

Jason seems similarly thrown, his voice far quieter and more cautious as he asks, "... don't you?"

Dick squeezes his hand tighter.

"I'm disappointed you felt the need to hide this from me, Jason. That _both_ of you did."

"It's only been a couple of weeks, Bruce. It's not like we've hidden this from you for months," Dick argues, "And we were going to tell you. Soon."

A little white lie. Dick doesn't know how soon Jason would have been comfortable with coming out with the truth if last night hadn't happened like it did. It might've been a day, weeks, or even months longer.

Beside him, Jason is wide-eyed, his hand holding tight back to Dick's. 

"That's not the point." Bruce growls, teeth bared for a moment. "We're pack, _family._ You're my son, Jason, and after the last two years I thought we'd come further than this. I thought you'd trust me, knowing that I want you to be happy, to be _safe_. And this... what happened last night -"

"Was my fault." Dick says quickly, before the blame can be assigned elsewhere. "I know, and we've already talked it out, Bruce. It was my mistake."

"You compromised Jason and Damian's personal safety." Bruce says sharply, apparently concurring with him. "If I'd known what was going off between the two of you I could have accommodated for that. I could have predicted this as a place you'd run to and intercepted you along the way."

That cuts deep, worse because it's not entirely wrong either. If this was a team Dick had been leading - the Titan's or anyone else - and someone under his command had run through a similar scenario? The truth is, he might've ended up saying the exact same thing. 

Instinct is such a powerful factor in their lives, making knowing who or where it might turn to in the event of someone losing control of their higher thought processes sometimes a necessity. Dick didn't consider that, even knowing who they were going up against last night. He'd been distracted by thoughts of Jason even before he got out onto the streets.

"Look, Bruce. I know you're angry, okay." This isn't going the way Dick thought it would, "And I'm sorry we hid it from you. But we couldn't have predicted what was going to happen, and we really didn't mean -"

"It's not his fault." 

Jason's words cut him off, bring him up short. Dick stops talking and looks at the omega at his side.

Bruce too goes quiet.

"I asked him to do it. I made Dick keep quiet about us, he wanted to tell you sooner. He wanted to tell everybody." Jason says again, shoulders hiked up around his ears as he admits the truth. "I did it because I was scared, okay? Because I thought you'd disapprove, that you'd think I wasn't good enough for him because of what I've done in the past. Because I can't... I still can't stop thinking the worst of people sometimes. Even after all you've done for me, even..." His eyes flicker to Dick, and Dick's heart breaks a little at the reminder of all the ways in which the world had broken Jason Todd before now. "And I've never done anything like this before, B. I wanted to figure it out for myself before anything else."

"Of course you're good enough for me, Jason." He says soothingly, squeezing his hand tighter, while looking at Bruce. Bruce, who has an unreadable expression on his face as he processes what Jason's told him. Dick can practically hear the gears twisting inside his head from here.

He thinks that's it, maybe that's enough, but then Jason lifts his head, teal eyes glinting in the harsh artificial light overhead. "Maybe I shouldn't have done it, maybe I should have trusted you not to be angry and listen to me in the first place, but I did what I did. I'm not sorry for this relationship, so you can fuck off and get the hell out of my life if you think you can tell either of us to call it quits."

The last show of defiance is all Jason, lashing out before someone can hurt him first, the way Gotham's streets taught him to, and it makes Dick wince internally at the same time as feeling oddly proud of him for being honest in the first place.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop."

That statement makes both sit to attention, eyes fixated on Bruce. Part of it is instinct, because when he speaks now it's with the voice of authority that belongs to the leader of the pack.

Bruce looks between them both. "I'll admit, I'm not a hundred percent comfortable with this. You're both my children, and I care about you, but you're correct, I don't have that right. You're both adults, it's your choice and you don't need my permission to do this." He takes a deep breath, like it's killing him to admit it. Knowing how bad Bruce can be with emotions, Dick thinks it probably is. "I trust you both enough to know what you're doing. To take care of each other."

His eyes are on Dick when he says that last part, and Dick knows it's more of a 'I trust you to take care of Jason, Dick' than anything. Just like any other time Bruce gives him a grudging admittance of pride and trust, it takes Dick's breath away.

"You mean that?" Jason says, still wary and unable to help himself from questioning, even as the cautious beginnings of hope start to take over.

Bruce nods again, stiffly. "I do. I'm angry with you for hiding it from me, Jason, not for seeking out a partner. And out of anyone you could have chosen..." His eyes settle on Dick, the look saying everything he can't put into words. "But I want you to trust me from now on, and not keep anything from me that will compromise your safety and well being. That's what I care about, more than anything else."

He stands up, and Jason stands up with him, eyeing Bruce still warily as he walks over and puts a gauntleted hand against the base of his skull, then slowly slides it down to the back of his neck. Dick waits with baited breath, a growl sitting ready in his throat as he braces to jump up and knock them apart at a moments notice should this go badly (Jason's palm is still sweat-slick against his own), but Jason doesn't flinch, just closes his eyes and sags into the hold as Bruce squeezes.

"You're my son, Jason. Always, remember that."

Dick actually feels like an intruder on the moment, all things considered.

"Okay." Jason says finally, shuddering, "Okay."

Bruce lets go, stepping back. Just like that, Dick see's the awkwardness flicker across his face again, the retreat away from vulnerability now he's said everything he feels needs saying. A moment later Bruce reaches back to pull the cowl up again, setting that barrier back up between himself and the world. 

He starts towards the window, then looks back at them again, calculating. "Two weeks. I don't suppose this has anything to do with your request to resume active duty again, Jason?"

"Does it matter?" Jason says, flushing, as Dick stands up beside him, nudging their shoulders together.

"I suppose not."

Bruce opens the window, but before he can leave Jason calls out to him. "B!"

"Yes?"

Jason swallows, "The next time you want to come check up on me, or ask me something, call ahead. Use the front door, okay? Don't creep into my house like a Goddamn thief. I don't care how good your intentions are, I'm not cool with that kind of shit."

To this Bruce tilts his head, "Understood. Dick."

Dick raises his chin, "Yeah, B?"

"I expect you at the cave tomorrow. I want a full mission report before you head back to Bludhaven."

Right, Bludhaven. Somehow in all the confusion Dick forgot about his own city, and the fact that under normal circumstances he would have been heading back there today. "Yeah, got it. Tomorrow."

Bruce gives them a final nod, then he's gone with a sweep of his cape, the window sliding closed again behind him.

The two of them look at each other in the wake of his leaving, sigh, then as one fall back onto the couch, with Jason mostly on top of Dick. 

"Fuck me." Jason murmurs, sounding suddenly exhausted. "Did that really just happen?"

"Mm." Dick agrees, bypassing the obvious opening for a joke. "Guess we should start giving Bruce more credit."

"I guess... you think Alfred chewed him out before he came here?"

Dick snorts, lifting his hand and running it through Jason's still-damp curls. He finds the white streak and loops it around his index finger before dropping a kiss onto his forehead. "Like I said, little wing, let's give Bruce _some_ credit."

Jason turns his face into Dick's chest, and the easy way in which he does it is beyond touching. "Okay, fine. I still can't believe I'm alive right now."

"Me either." Especially when it occurs to Dick that Bruce might just waiting to give him the shotgun talk outside of Jason's earshot. Probably tomorrow when he goes to give his report, he keeps his suspicions to himself though. "But let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, okay? I'm just glad Bruce knows and we don't have to hide it anymore."

"We still have to tell Damian." Jason points out.

Shit, that's right. Dick reaches up and rubs his jaw, feeling the stubble that's grown in there over the past couple of days. Maybe the first thing he'll do when he gets back up to the manor tomorrow is have a shave, as a delay to getting his ass kicked. "I'll leave that one to you, I think he'll take it better when you say it."

"Baby."

Dick laughs, "He's your baby, that's the point." Catching Jason's chin, he turns his face up so that he can kiss him. "Hey."

"Mm?" Jason looks up at him through the sweep of his eyelashes, tired and warm, heavy-soft scent filling Dick's nostrils each time he kisses him. The sickly fear-smell he was radiating earlier is fading, cushioned by sweet relief and affection as Dick runs his fingers through his hair, scratching against his scalp.

"I know it's kind of early still to sleep, but want to go cuddle in bed?"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Dick can't help but laugh at the insinuation. Truth be told, he doesn't think either of them are in the mood for more than that tonight. It's been a long exhausting day, between dealing with their own issues, then Tim and Bruce.

He'll never say never though, not with how good Jason feels just lying against him. The curve of his hip and the warm press of his thighs are enough to make Dick think twice about anything.

"We'll see when we get there, little wing. We'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](firefright.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves* hey all, I know it's been a little while, but here's another chapter of this story for you guys this week. Warnings for sex and violence apply to this one, just FYI. The good news is we're more or less done with what I've been calling the first arc of this story in my head, and over halfway done with the narrative overall (I hope). Thank you for reading as always!

Jason stirs when he feels something tickling his leg. 

The sensation starts just below the curve of his hip, then traces down the firm muscle of his thigh almost to his knee, before slipping inwards and back up, rubbing small circles against the more sensitive skin just below the hem of his boxers. Still half-asleep, Jason is slow to identify the source, even as he squirms and sluggishly grumbles, “Quit it.” to whomever or whatever is the cause.

A familiar huff of laughter puffs against his neck, preceding that tickling touch riding up even higher between his legs, like a persistent insect that just doesn’t know when to quit. It pushes up under the fabric of his boxers, skirting closer and closer to his cock until Jason instinctively presses his thighs together to stop the unknown annoyance in its tracks.

“Jason…” Dick purrs, soft and suggestive in his ear.

Jason opens his eyes. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 4:53AM in harsh white letters (not red, never red), and Jason groans at the realisation of the time, as well as the presence of Dick’s early morning interest currently poking him in the base of the spine. “Dick, s’not even five… fuck off.”

“We went to bed at ten, it’s not that early.” Despite his reasoning Dick’s fingers grind to an instant halt where they are. Not going any higher, but still gently rubbing circles into Jason’s thigh near his groin.

 _Fucking vigilantes_ , Jason thinks, somewhat hypocritically considering his own past and future status as one. Dick may be used to being up at all hours and operating on next to no sleep but Jason isn’t anymore; a fact he’s going to cherish as long as he can. “Say that when Damian’s jumping on you to get up at six, I dare you.”

That laugh, far too bright and sunny for this hour, breaks free of Dick’s lips again. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all, “I just… you smelled so good when I woke up, and…” lips press across the back of Jason’s neck, right over the bite mark Dick put there before, “I saw this and remembered all those words you said to me yesterday.”

Jason sucks in a sharp breath at the reminder. That’s right, yesterday he had… almost, but not quite, made a sort of love confession to Dick. Or if not that, at least a confession of intent for this thing between them to reach that level someday; provided Dick doesn’t suddenly see the light and take off for better prospects at some point.

His cock gives a traitorous twitch when Dick kisses his neck. “That so?”

“Yeah.” Dick smiles, right where Jason can feel it against the junction of his neck and shoulder. 

Last night they’d collapsed straight into bed together after Bruce had gone, falling asleep almost right away out of boneless relief that their shared pack leader wasn’t about to try and demand they get the hell away from each other. The stress of that encounter had straight up murdered any amorous feelings that lingered from their talk, but now, in the predawn darkness, that hunger comes creeping back, bringing with it the memory of how Jason had felt pinned underneath Dick in that moment. The way he’d yearned for Dick to touch him. To fuck him despite his reservations about going so far so fast. 

Dick keeps talking. “And then I saw how pretty you look when you’re sleeping, and I couldn’t help thinking about…”

“About what?” Jason asks, thankful the dark shadows in the room will cover his blush as his thighs loosen their grip, giving Dick’s hand the opportunity to continue worming its way upwards.

Dick doesn’t disappoint. His reaches further into Jason’s boxers, brushing against the length of his cock with the tips of his fingers. “About making love to you.”

Jason’s face burns hotter than it ever would have if Dick had simply used the word ‘fucking’ like a normal person. Fucking he can deal with, making love is another matter entirely. “You are such a cornball.” He groans to cover up his embarrassment,, “How are you even allowed to exist.”

“I have a special permit.”

“Rhetorical, you ass.” It’s too early in the morning for witty banter. Still, Jason can’t help licking his lips and asking, “But if we did do, y’know, that, right now, what would you be proposing?”

Dick’s lips kiss up under his ear, sparing a moment to trace the outer shell of it with his tongue. Then he smiles like he’s been dying for Jason to ask him that question all his life. “Jay, do you have any idea how gorgeous your thighs are?”

“What?”

“Your thighs.” The hand Dick has pressed against his crotch slides back down for a moment to squeeze one of his legs in demonstration. “They’re just… wow, you know?”

“What does -”

“I was thinking about getting you wet.” Dick carries on, his voice dropping to that low octave that has never failed to get Jason’s engine revving so far. It’s just barely above a growl. “Working you up until you’re soaked through, so I can spread your slick down your legs and push myself between them. I want us both to come like that. With me fucking my cock between your thighs.”

Jason chokes on nothing. On the very air itself. “Jesus, Dick.”

“Is that okay?”

Is that… is that okay? Jason can feel his cock going from half-mast to full just at the _idea_. He thinks he manages a nod, but…

“You sure? I need you to answer me, Jay. Verbally.”

Dick stills every touch he has on him while he waits for Jason to give him an answer, not continuing even when a hungry whine for attention escapes his throat at the presence of the alpha behind him. The strong, powerful alpha, who so far as the part of Jason’s brain ruled by instinct is concerned has already proven himself worthy of him and his pup in terms of his ability to protect and provide.

Fuck, even Dick’s refusal to touch him now until Jason tells him it’s okay to continue contributes to working him up. It’s a little disturbing to Jason how much he likes it when Dick gets forceful with him; an uncomfortable sign that he’s not so immune to the base trappings of his omega nature as he’d like to think he is.

“Fuck, you… you got a filthy mind, Grayson. Yeah, yeah it’s okay.”

That laugh fills the air once more, brimming with delight as Dick nuzzles his neck, then uses his hand to turn Jason’s head around so that he can kiss him properly. Jason leans back into it, keens for the attention despite the awkward angle as Dick rolls his hips forwards up against his ass; the solid evidence of his erection there completely impossible to miss.

Dick’s hands are nimble, quick, as he sets out to do as he promised; sliding Jason’s boxers down off his hips and over his stiff dick so his fingers can work between his legs without being impeded. Jason shivers as Dick’s left hand grasps the length of him, stroking sure and steady while the right slips further back between his legs, into his cleft. There his fingers dip and tease, going from one to three in what feels like no time at all. Thrusting into him until Jason feels soaked through the way Dick said he wanted him, all without pushing Jason to that edge that would allow him to come.

It drives him crazy, and he’s bucking and moaning under Dick’s touch as the alpha continues to work him with seemingly infinite patience; until he’s completely satisfied that Jason’s produced more than enough slick for his plan to work; until he can gather it on his fingers and spread it down Jason’s inner thighs like lube. 

“Ready?” Dick pants behind him, his voice dark with hunger and need despite all the restraint he’s shown so far.

Jason nods. He holds his breath as Dick’s cock slots between his legs, the length of it pressing up against him, sliding against the outside of his cunt and underneath his balls. They set a slow and steady pace between them and it’s maddening, intoxicating to have Dick so close, to have him right on the cusp of where Jason’s body wants him to be most dearly. As close to true fucking as they can get without actually going through with it.

“Dick.” He gasps, “Dick.”

“Shh, I’ve got you, Jay-baby. I’ve got you.”

He shivers as Dick keeps thrusting between his legs, his pace slow and lazy as he guides Jason through what turns out to be the most laid-back sex he’s ever had in his life; born out of a sense of contentment and a need to be close rather than desperate lust. He’d never considered that it could be like this before, so calm, so relaxed. Not when all the sex he’s had previously in his life had been the polar opposite.

By the time he comes, with a hearty gasp muffled in his pillow and one of Dick’s hands back around his cock while the other plays with his nipples, Jason feels more like a sentient puddle than a man. More so when Dick pulls the bedcovers over their heads, cocooning them in a ball of mixed alpha and omega scent, with the heavy odour of sex blanketing it all. 

“Jay.” Dick murmurs when his own orgasm eventually takes him, teeth teasing the back of Jason’s neck. “Jay, Jay, Jay…” 

Jason shudders, feeling Dick’s come on his skin, his knot swelling between his thighs. He can’t move, can’t even breathe for a moment as the deepest part of him aches in empty longing. So much so he doesn’t entirely think through what he says next.

“God, I need you to fuck me.”

There’s a moment of quiet, then Dick inhales sharply and buries his face in against Jason’s neck. “ _Jay,_ ”

“Not,” Jason swallows, feeling the need to clarify as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Not right now, but… soon. There’s some stuff I need to take care of... That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about before.”

He feels like a kid. A dumb floundering kid. _Him_. Jason Todd. The man who could walk into the middle of a drug lord’s club meeting or a League of Assassin’s hideout with a confident grin on his face, but try and get him to talk about something intimate or personal and suddenly it’s like his tongue can’t stop tripping over itself.

Dick’s right hand moves to his stomach, pressing lightly. He still sounds a little out of breath, but whether that’s from the sex they just had or what Jason just told him is up for debate. “Really?”

Jason squeezes his hip. “Yeah, really. Just give me a little longer.”

“I’ll give you as long as you need, you know that.” Dick kisses his neck. His knot remains hard as a rock between Jason’s thighs. Based on their previous encounters Jason guesses it’s going to stay that way for at least another ten minutes yet. “I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I’m not. This is what I want.” Jason says, closing his eyes before turning his head, seeking out Dick’s lips with his own. He obliges him instantly, and they kiss for a good minute, enjoying the afterglow before pulling back. “You wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Even here under the darkness of the blanket, he can make out the white crescent of Dick’s teeth when he grins. “Yeah, I believe that.”

“Good, you better. Or this,” Jason squeezes his thighs a little closer together to hear Dick gasp, “Can just go take care of itself in the future.”

“Ah, point… point made, Jay.” Dick says, pushing his hand even more firmly against Jason’s belly for a moment. “God, you’re… I love it when you get forceful with me.”

Jason snorts, “Really? I haven’t been able to tell.” Then he can’t help asking, “Have you always liked that? I mean from…”

“From my previous partners? Yeah. I guess. Started with Kori, then Roy and Barbara.” Dick says thoughtfully, “I like being the one in charge most of the time. I’m an alpha, it’s my nature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t switch it up sometimes. Just has to be under the right circumstances, and with someone I trust.”

“You trust me to do that?” Jason asks softly.

“I wouldn’t be here with you now if I didn’t.” Dick replies, turning Jason’s words back on him. He rubs his thumb around the circumference of Jason’s belly button. “There’s a whole list of things I like to do in bed that I want to share with you when you’re ready for them, Jay. Some might surprise you.”

“... like?”

This feels like a weird conversation to have right now; the sort of thing you’d usually discuss before fucking someone, rather than after, but sue him, he’s curious. Jason’s still in the process of figuring out what he likes when it comes to having sex, knowing what Dick likes might help guide him in that.

Dick doesn’t seem to mind the question, taking his time to think it over. “Different positions, toys, restraints.” Jason thinks he hears him lick his lips, “Sometimes I even like to be the one being fucked, rather than the one doing the fucking.”

Jason’s brain just crashed, and is pending a reboot to really process what he’s just heard. Toys, okay, that’s fairly normal from he knows; restraints are a little more out there and he’s not so sure about that one, but all right. Dick enjoying getting fucked by someone else though? He knows some alphas are into that, usually the ones who are attracted to their own kind, but... “Fuck,” he swallows, “Really?”

“Really. Not often, but when I’m in the mood for it.” The bastard’s smirking, Jason’s sure of it, knowing what that sentence has done to him. Dick’s mouth is suddenly back up by his ear, his voice low as he whispers, “We can try that one day too, to see if you like it.”

The image of Dick spread out under him, of Dick taking Jason’s cock is… heat starts to flare back up in Jason’s belly, prompting a swell of scent he knows Dick notices. There’s no way to hide that the idea appeals to him. Not quite as much as being taken by Dick does, but close. “Maybe.”

“What about you, little wing? Anything you ever wanted to try?”

Jason shakes his head, “I don’t… I don’t know. You know I haven’t much…”

“I know.” Dick says, a touch more quietly.

“That heat was… it was good. What I remember of it anyway.” He swallows. Jason can feel Dick’s fingers tighten against his stomach and hip as soon as he mentions it. “But it was pretty, y’know… heat sex.”

Mating. Tab A into slot B. Instinct and hormones screaming at him that any moment he didn’t have a cock in him was a moment wasted. The thought of it, as always, makes Jason feel a mix of arousal and shame with a little bit of anger all rolled into one.

“You don’t have to tell me, Jay.” 

“I know I don’t.” He says hotly. “Jesus, Dick. I just… I’m trying to be honest here, okay?”

Dick’s hands are still holding him tight, possessive in a way that makes Jason feel torn between pulling him closer or shoving him away. He does neither as he feels Dick nod against his shoulder, then drop a kiss in against his neck. “Okay, sorry. I just… you know I…”

“It happened.” Jason sighs, “Once. And it ain’t ever going to happen again. I was just… dumb, and desperate and wanting to piss Bruce off anyway I could. Can’t even blame the Pit entirely for that. Only thing that matters is I got Damian out of it.” He reaches and squeezes Dick’s wrist. “You’re the only relationship I’ve ever had, Dick, so don’t get your panties in a twist over it, okay?”

“I’m not getting my -”

“Yeah, you are. I can smell it, you dumbass.” Jason sighs and turns his head, seeking out Dick’s lips again until he obliges him with a kiss. “Past is past, pretty bird. I’m good with what we’ve got going here now.”

Dick smiles against his mouth, but there’s still something a little possessive about the way he holds onto him. “Me too.”

Jason nods, “Like I said before. Just means I’m figuring this out as we go, that’s all.”

“We’re figuring it out together.” Dick promises him before he slips his hand under the bend of Jason’s knee, lifting his leg up so he can slide his cock out from between the press of his thighs. Jason starts, surprised because before now Dick’s always liked to keep some kind of pressure around his knot until it goes down. 

“What’re you -”

“It’s still early.” Dick rolls him onto his back, pushing his legs apart, and Jason, still feeling blissful and fucked out despite the turn in conversation, doesn’t argue. “That means I’ve got enough time to make you come again before Damian wakes up, Jay, and I think I know something else we can try right now that you’re going to like.” He kisses him deeply, still under the smothering comfort of the blanket, before starting to move down the length of Jason’s body, “I’ve been dying to eat you out since the first time we kissed on that ledge.”

“Oh, _fuck_.” Jason groans, head falling back against the pillow as Dick settles down in the cradle of his thighs. His mouth presses kisses against the sensitive skin near his groin, before the tip of his tongue darts out, first against Jason’s sack and then lower to his hole behind. The first whimper Jason lets out at the press of it against him is pitiful, but yearning.

Dick fucks his tongue into him like he’s got something to prove, and Jason wants to tell him he hasn’t, that there’s no threat to the relationship between them; that he doesn’t need to do this but at the same time -

When he gets to feels something this good out of it? It’s all Jason can do to bite down on the knuckle of his index finger and try not to yell loud enough to wake his son up across the hall.

 

*

 

They end up saying goodbye at the door around lunchtime, with Jason holding Damian in his arms, the majority of the toddler’s weight balanced against his hip. If Jason wasn’t as tall and as strong as he is from working out Damian would be getting too big for this. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come up to the manor with you?”

“I’m sure.” Dick says, wearing the clothes Tim brought over for him yesterday, with the bag containing his contaminated uniform slung back over his shoulder. “I’m not planning on staying up there long. I’ll just be giving my report to Bruce, then grabbing my stuff and heading back to Bludhaven.”

Bludhaven. Jason’s stomach curls pathetically at the thought of Dick going back to his own territory, even though he knew it would be happening eventually. It’s not really that big a distance, but it’s still a far cry from him being as close as the manor. Sometimes he really hates himself for how much he’s let Dick get under his skin already,

“It’s the reporting to Bruce part I’m worried about.”

Dick pauses, then shakes his head with a small glance down at Damian. “It’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?”

It had taken Jason some time to think about it, but now he can’t shake the feeling that the talk with Bruce yesterday hadn’t actually gone as well as it initially appeared to. Sure, their shared guardian and pack leader hadn’t demanded they stop what they were doing, but he clearly wasn’t happy with them either, that much was true. 

Jason’s not stupid, he knows Bruce still tiptoes around him sometimes, wary of breaking the fragile peace between them, but with Dick alone he might not have that motivation to hold back his disapproval.

“I can handle Bruce, Jay.” Dick assures him. He reaches out, his hand brushing the side of Jason’s neck. “Trust me.”

It’s as good an admission as any that Dick knows what he’s talking about. Unfortunately, with Damian present they can’t go into anymore detail. Sex had filled up most of their toddler free time that morning, with the rest dedicated to showering and airing out the smell from Jason’s room to save any awkward questions.

It didn’t help that Damian had woken up still surly and clingy from yesterday, latching onto Jason the moment he emerged from his bedroom (the baby gate once again failing in its duty) and not letting go even as his mother moved around the kitchen trying to make breakfast. His furious little glares at Dick anytime he judged him to come too close had at first been amusing, but were now edging towards worrying.

Jason just hopes the talk he’s planning on having with Damian after Dick leaves will make that better, not worse.

“All right, fine.” Jason cups the back of Damian’s head with his free hand when his hold tightens on his shirt. “Just… be careful, I guess.”

Dick’s gaze softens, his hand staying on Jason’s neck even as Damian lets out a soft little growl. “Of course I will.” his thumb pushes up under Jason’s jaw, the look in his eyes suggesting he’d be kissing him goodbye right now if only they didn't have an audience.

Which unfortunately they do. A grouchy, snappy little audience.

“You gotta go now.” Damian says, scowling so hard Jason really thinks he’s in danger of developing a unibrow. “Go now, Duck.”

“Damian, don’t be rude.” Jason says at once, turning his head down to glower at his son. “Say goodbye to Uncle Duck properly.”

“Bye Duck, go away.”

“ _Damian._ ” Jason starts to pull his lips back, baring his teeth to show unhappy he is with his son’s behaviour. Jesus, this is new. “We don’t talk to people like that. Be nice or no trip to the park later.”

“It’s all right -”

“No, it isn’t.” Jason doesn’t look at Dick, keeping his focus on Damian. “Damian, say you’re sorry. I mean it.”

Damian clenches his little jaw, puffing up his cheeks as he returns his mother’s gaze. A short staring contest ensues, a minor clash for dominance that eventually ends with Damian ducking his head down, sniffling as he hides his head against Jason’s chest. “S’rry.”

“Not to me. Apologise to Uncle Duck. Go on.”

It takes another minute, but eventually Damian turns his head enough that he’s sort of looking in Dick’s direction, mumbling another ‘sorry’ under his breath that Jason only lets him get away with because he knows Dick needs to get going.

“I forgive you, little D. Thank you for apologising.” Dick says graciously, bending down so their heads are almost at the same level. “Hey, you’re still my favourite nephew, right?”

Damian hides his face back against Jason’s breast as he nods his head.

“Phew, that’s a relief. I’d be sad if you weren’t.” Dick dares to brush his fingers over Damian’s hair before straightening back up. “Maybe you and Mommy can come visit me for a weekend at Bludhaven soon, then we can do practice more acrobatics and trapeze. That sound good to you?”

Another stiff little nod. Dick smiles, knowing that’s the best he can ask for right now. “I’ll see you later, Jay.”

“Yeah, later.” 

Jason swallows as Dick finally departs. He shuts the door behind him, locks it, then carries Damian over to the waiting couch and sits down with him, settling his son firmly on his lap before starting to run his hand up and down his back. 

It’s probably best that he’s not going to try and have this conversation with Dick present.

“Dami.”

No response.

“Dami, can you look at me? Mommy needs to talk to you something important, okay? About me and Uncle Duck.”

It takes a little more coaxing, but eventually he gets Damian sitting up and looking at him. His face is red, but he only sniffles a little as Jason runs his thumbs over his soft chubby cheeks and kisses the tip of his nose, purring to make sure Damian knows he’s forgiven him the same as Dick did. “You with me, little man?”

Damian rubs at his eyes, sniffling. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy.” Jason can’t resist kissing his nose again, then his forehead and his cheeks and his chin. Laying kisses against warm copper skin until a reluctant giggle escapes Damian and he relaxes into Jason’s hold, the frown finally smoothing off his face. “No more grumps, okay?”

“No more grumps.” Damian agrees. His arms loop up around Jason’s neck as he snuggles closer, nosing against his chest in a display of lingering infant behaviour that only comes to the forefront when he’s upset - and that is getting rarer and rarer the older he grows. 

Soon he won’t even be a toddler anymore, Jason thinks, as he drops another kiss onto the top of Damian’s head. He’s come so far from the small pink squalling babe that Jason had first held in his arms almost four years ago. That version of Damian now only exists in Jason’s memory, because he’d been far too paranoid back then to ever think of taking photographs.

It’s a regret, but only a small one. Now he has albums full of pictures, mostly safe in Alfred’s care up at the manor; Damian’s growth from the age of two upwards has been carefully documented to an almost ridiculous degree thanks to his family. Even Bruce carries a photo of him around in his wallet now, though Jason has no idea what he tells anyone who asks about it since he and Damian only legally exist under aliases that have no connection to the name Wayne. There’s too much risk of someone recognising Jason otherwise.

“That’s my brave little monster.” Jason says, “Now, I need you to listen close, okay? This is important.”

“Im-por-tant.” Damian sounds the word out, then nods, reaching up and wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. Jason makes a note to check it for snot before they go out later. “‘kay, Mommy.”

Now that he has his attention Jason just has to think how to begin. How to explain things in terms that Damian will understand. None of the parenting blogs he’d looked at had been particularly helpful; they were mostly aimed at the challenges of introducing someone entirely new to your kid, rather than explaining a change in relationship with someone they were already familiar with.

Best to start with the basics.

“Damian, do you know what it means when two people are dating?”

He can feel Damian’s hands at the nape of his neck, playing with the loose curls of hair there. There’s a brief wait as Damian thinks it over, “... kissing?”

“Kissing’s part of it.” Jason agrees, suppressing a grin. Trust him to jump right to that part. “But it also means other stuff too.”

“What stuff?”

“Stuff like…” He thinks for a moment, “Like wanting to spend a lot of time with someone, because you like them very, very much. Letting them stay in your house and… and sometimes sleep in your bed.”

“Like friends?”

“Sort of.” Jason agrees, “But with somebody you like even more than a friend. Which is why you kiss them.”

“You kiss me.” Damian points out, prompting Jason to have to fight another smile.

“It’s a different kind of kissing, little man.”

“Mouth kissing.”

“That’s right.”

“Mommy,” Damian says, once that has been given further consideration, “is you and Uncle Duck dating?”

It’s what he was working up to saying, but having Damian beat him to the punch still knocks the wind out of Jason a little bit. He’s an intelligent kid, and Jason knows it doesn’t all come from the Todd side of his gene pool. “Yeah baby, we are.” He swallows, asking what may be a potentially fatal question. “What do you think about that?”

Damian keeps playing with his hair, little fingers weaving and tangling, probably tying knots that will be a bitch to comb out later without realising it. “I dunno. You’re my mommy.”

“I am.”

“Mine, nobody elses.”

“That’s right.” Jason says, a little more cautiously now, keeping his fingers splayed over Damian’s back. “And that’s never going to change, Damian.” _No one’s taking you away from me ever again._

He doesn’t know if Damian consciously remembers their time spent apart anymore, but the memory must still lurk somewhere. That sort of trauma always did, and it was Jason’s fault ultimately, for letting his need for revenge win out over his responsibility to be there for his own child. He’d convinced himself he could trust Talia, intentionally blinding himself to the warning signs that should have been so obvious.

If only he’d listened to his instincts more than his anger and the Pit, things could have been so different.

Jason shifts back to lie on the couch, letting Damian snuggle in down against his chest when he doesn’t say anything else. Time for a different approach. “You love Uncle Duck, don’t you, Dami?”

“Uh huh, lots.”

“Lots.” Jason nods, staring up at the ceiling. “He loves you too. Lots and lots. Mommy too, I love you more than anything. So you know, even if things are a little different between Mommy and Duck now, that nothing changes between you and us, right? We still love you, and we’re still going to play with you and do all the same things we did before. It just means that Dick - Duck, will be spending even more time with us now, doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Guess.”

“You guess, huh?” He keeps rubbing his back. That’s probably the best he can ask for now, Jason thinks, so long as Damian isn’t immediately rejecting the idea. He didn’t expect him to come round immediately, Damian’s just not that kind of kid, and this is a big change for him to wrap his head around as much as Jason’s trying to make it sound like no big deal. He won't know for sure if he's going to accept it until after Damian actually sees him and Dick acting like a couple together. “Okay.”

They lie there on the couch like that for a little while longer. Jason breathes in the sweet scent and warmth of his son, wondering if he can get away with them sharing a mutual nap, before Damian raises his head, a curious little frown on his face. “Mommy?”

“Yes, Damian?”

“Mouth kissing is icky.”

Jason bites his lip in a valiant attempt not to laugh, but his shoulders still shake with it anyway. “Yeah? Who told you that?”

“Lian. She said… said her mommy… an’ Aunt Kori, the orange lady, they kiss lots. And it’s icky.”

The next time Jason talks to Roy, he’s definitely throwing that in his face. 

“Well if Lian says so, it must be true.”

Damian nods sagely. The wisdom of one Lian Harper, older than him by six months, is something he takes very seriously indeed. “No kissing in front of me, kay?”

“Okay, Dami, I’ll try not to.”

_No promises though._

 

*

 

Up at the manor, Dick approaches Bruce in the cave with his shoulders set and his pace steady.

He’s actually been back at the manor for an hour already, but he’d been delayed in getting to Bruce by Alfred pouncing on him the moment he walked in the door. Alfred had demanded Dick hand over his uniform as well as subject himself to a check up after his ‘adventure’, as he so discretely put it, before doing anything else. It had taken some poking and prodding, but eventually Dick had been able to escape the butler with a clean bill of health.

Now he has all the belongings he brought home with him to Gotham packed and in hand, ready to return to Bludhaven the moment this meeting is done. Dick’s not one hundred percent on exactly what’s going to happen, but it’s probably not going to be all sunshine and rainbows, that’s for sure.

With that in mind he doesn’t beat about the bush when he finds Bruce, dropping his bag to the floor and stopping in front of his alpha with his arms held down by his sides, intentionally loose and non-threatening. “B-”

“I was expecting you earlier.”

Dick shrugs at the comment. “I stayed at Jay’s for lunch, wasn’t aware I was on any kind of timetable. So, how are we gonna do this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Bruce is working over one of the punching bags in the training area. His fists wrapped in tape, his bare torso already covered in sweat. Dick would guess he’s been at it for a while, judging by the way his scent has clouded the air around him; heavy and overpowering.

“Really? There’s nothing that you maybe want to say to me now that you didn’t want to say in front of Jay last night?”

The furious beating of Bruce’s fists against the sand-filled bag stops for a moment as he turns his head, looking back over one gargantuan shoulder at Dick. The force of his gaze speaks to Dick’s animal side, urging him to take a step back, to bow his head to prove that he didn’t come here meaning to be a threat, but he resists.

“I meant every word I said, Dick.” Bruce tells him, the ice of his eyes impenetrable. “About you and Jason. I have no right to get in your way.”

“But you’re not happy about it.”

“No.” Bruce admits flatly, resuming his pummelling of the punching bag, “I’m not happy about it.”

“Because it’s me? Or because it’s anyone?”

Bruce stops again. This time he actually turns away from the bag, seemingly done as he starts to strip the tape from his wrists. He looks irritated, the strain clear across the line of his brow. Dick wonders how much sleep he’s had since Halloween; probably not enough.

“Dick, out of anyone, you’re the person I can be most comfortable with dating Jason. I trust you, you know that.”

The words warm him. Briefly. It’s good to know it’s no fault of Dick’s personally, but he still hates feeling that displeasure rake across him. Discourse in the pack is never good, and Dick’s always been more sensitive to it than most. When he was a kid having Bruce’s ire directed at him used to drive him so crazy he’d do anything to win his approval back.

Of course, that changed as he crossed the line into adulthood. Their falling out during the years Jason had been Robin proved that. Most young alphas felt the need to purposefully step out of bounds as they matured, to spread their wings, but Dick had pushed it to the extreme. Or rather, Bruce had pushed _him_.

“I know. And I’m not asking you to make peace with it right away, I know you won’t. But I want you to be honest with me as well. If there’s something you want to say, say it to my face here and now. Don’t let it stew while I’m back in Bludhaven.”

In the old days a courting alpha would have to prove themselves as much to an omega’s sire as they did the omega. And in some parts of the world, or in certain social circles, that’s still true; not here though, not with them. Even it was, Dick would hope Bruce knows him well enough to think Dick’s proven himself already. 

“If you need us to fight, or for me to -”

“Are you challenging me?” Bruce cuts him off, his eyes glancing down at Dick’s neck. At the place he had left a dominating bite the last time they got into a real fight. 

“No.” Dick say quickly.

“Then no, that won’t be necessary.”

“But would it help if we did?”

Bruce gives him a measuring look, and Dick can see the answer in his eyes clear as day. The change in his and Jason’s relationship has unsettled him, and on some base instinctual level Bruce feels undermined. If they fight it will reinforce their roles with one another, Bruce can reestablish his dominance with himself and then, hopefully, they can move forwards without carrying that discord with them.

He slides his jacket off his shoulders, then bends down to unlace his boots. “Come on, let’s go to the mats. I could use a workout to loosen me up for tonight.”

Bruce doesn’t agree outright to the bout, but the fact that he follows Dick to the cave’s sparring area without a word of objection says everything he can’t put into words. It frustrates Dick that he won’t just admit his feelings sometimes, or what he needs to satisfy his instincts without being pushed to it by someone else, but then that’s Bruce; sometimes it’s a wonder he runs the Justice League as well as he does.

By the time they’re facing each other across the mats, Dick’s already starting to feel the familiar tingle in his limbs, a mixture of excitement and instinctive need. It’s not a real leadership challenge - the kind that could only end with them both bloody and broken on the floor - but it’s not a normal spar or play fight either. There’s an undercurrent of seriousness here that can’t be denied.

Once in position words drop away from them both, replaced by the deeper understanding that comes from scent and body language. Dick licks his dry lips, tasting the air, feeling every inch of his thrum with energy from the top of his head all the way down to his bare toes on the cold floor.

Not unexpectedly, Bruce makes the first move.

Dick ducks, slipping under the first punch and narrowly missing the follow-through by Bruce’s other hand. Bruce is huge, bigger than Jason and anyone else that Dick has fought recently - except maybe the ghosts of his past, thanks to Scarecrow’s toxin. He had learned in his earliest days as Robin that he couldn’t go against him with strength, instead his advantage lies in speed and flexibility.

Maybe Dick doesn’t strictly mean to win this fight against Bruce, but if he wants it to succeed in confirming his position in the pack, as well as assuring his alpha that he can be a worthy partner to Jason, then he can’t just roll over and lose either. Bruce will know it if Dick approaches this battle half-assed, and even if he wanted to do that he couldn’t, not with his own instincts singing at him to prove himself now.

He spins, dodging out of the range of Bruce’s fists and feet and then aside, seeking to outpace him and waiting for a chance to strike when the alpha isn’t facing him. Dick darts in, liquid fast, to hit at Bruce’s back, only missing the elbow thrown back at his head in retaliation by the grace of his own reflexes.

The first strike goes to him, but Dick knows he hasn’t hurt Bruce much, and this battle is far from over.

Bruce growls, low and dangerous; the sound making the very air molecules vibrate around them. Dick doesn’t even think before answering the challenge, baring his teeth in return as they circle each other, pacing round and round. It’s almost a disadvantage that they know each other so well, that they can see and read every move the other makes before they make it; it’s what makes them such excellent partners, but it’s also what makes their fights so brutal and so drawn out when they have them.

Bruce lunges for him again and Dick vaults back, wincing as he remembers that he’s not exactly dressed for combat in jeans and a shirt. They’re going to slow him down, and not allow him to be as flexible as he ordinarily would be; proven by the fact that Bruce is right in his face a second later. Dick manages to bring his arms up in time to block the ferocious strength of his right hook, gritting his teeth against the pain before ducking underneath it and driving his elbow into Bruce’s stomach.

Bruce grunts, bending double, but he catches Dick’s wrist when he goes in for an uppercut to his jaw, using the hold to throw him over his shoulder and across the floor. Dick rolls with the throw, managing to absorb most of the impact before springing back up onto his feet again.

 _Now_ his blood is singing.

They keep going. Bruce snarls, throwing himself into the fight like the damn tank that he is. He punches, kicks and grabs, seeking to pin Dick down. Dick feels it intimately when he busts his lip open; when he lands badly on his knees after being shoved into the wall. But then there’s triumph whenever he makes Bruce stumble; when he outpaces him across the floor or slips beneath his guard, hooking his leg around Bruce’s neck and using his weight to spin him into the ground before handspringing away to safety before he can be grabbed.

He can smell Bruce at every junction; scent curling dark and thick the longer their fight goes on; like oil and molasses. They snap and snarl at each other, teeth bared, fingers curling into claws as instinct rises to the forefront more and more. It’s lucky they’re not using weapons or there’d be more blood by now.

Then Dick slips up, the barest mistake bringing things to an end. He goes in on the attack, cartwheeling over Bruce’s outstretched leg, only to be struck in the ribs before he can blink. He overbalances, goes crashing down onto his side. A second later Bruce is on him.

His heavy weight crushes Dick’s lighter body, hands knocking aside the punches Dick throws up at him as he’s rolled onto his front, then pinned beneath Bruce’s legs. Dick growls, furious, as his hair is seized and used as a grip to pull back his head, exposing his neck a second before Bruce bends over behind him and sets his teeth against his throat.

It’s not instantaneous, but his aggression does take a nosedive the moment it happens. Especially when Bruce shakes him as an extra warning when Dick doesn’t immediately submit. His teeth sink deeper into his neck, threatening to break the skin and that’s it. Dick goes still, mind blurring as his body relaxes into the hold and the last of his snarl dissolves instead into a pacifying whine.

He’s good, he’s done; he knows his place, that whine says. Bruce still huffs and growls behind him, not letting go until his teeth have left a mark on Dick’s neck that won’t fade for at least a couple of days.

“Better?” Dick asks, when Bruce has finally climbed off of him and sat down to one side; when his head has finally figured out how to communicate with words again instead of violence. He still doesn’t quite dare get up himself, letting his instincts (and his bruised and sore muscles) direct him to keep lying exactly where he is after shifting into a more comfortable position.

Bruce grunts, which Dick thinks is an affirmation, as well as a ‘I’m still not ready to discuss this verbally’ sound.

With a sigh Dick rolls over onto his back, deciding that if he has to he’ll do the talking for him. “You know this… me and Jay, it’s not a spontaneous thing. Not entirely. I’ve felt that way about him for a while now, though I wasn’t sure he felt the same, and we talked things over when it started. We’re still talking things over now, every step of the way. I’m not going to hurt him Bruce, I never would. What happened on Halloween was an accident, an aberration. I’d never put him in danger like that if I was in my right mind.”

“Is that why you’ve encouraged him to put on a mask again?”

Dick goes very still, feeling the fresh bite throb against the skin of his throat. “It’s his choice. It’s what he wants.”

“But you did encourage him to it.” The blunt accusation in Bruce’s voice would have Dick baring his teeth again if his submission instinct wasn’t so completely ruling his thoughts right now.

He sighs. “Yeah, okay, I guess I did. But only because I knew it was what he wanted. You know as well as I do that Jay can’t be forced into anything. He’d kick my ass or run a thousand miles before that happened.” Dick thinks about it for a moment, “Is that’s what’s bothering you? More than us getting together, anyway?”

“He’s safe where he is. Doing what he is.” Just being an ordinary mom leading an ordinary life.

“He’s also one of us,” Dick responds, “one of our pack. This life is in his blood.”

Bruce grimaces, “That’s what I’m afraid of. This life got him killed before.”

“And it’s almost killed you, me, Tim and Cass multiple times. You never tried to scare any of us off when it happened, or quit yourself.”

“Jason -”

“Jason’s not the kid he was, Bruce.” Dick rubs at his neck, “I know every instinct you have is probably screaming at you to protect him right now and I get that, I really do. Now that we’re… but he’s older now, better trained, and far more capable than I think any of us know. He was good enough to almost take you down.”

Bruce growls softly, and Dick drops his hand quickly, going completely flat against the floor again until it passes. Reminding him of that time probably wasn’t the smartest idea. “I’m not happy about this, nor with your part in it.”

“And I understand that, but I won’t apologise for it. I can’t. You need to trust him, Bruce. Trust that he knows what he’s doing and that he’s capable of doing it. Jason won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

 _Just like he wouldn’t forgive either of us if he knew we were having this conversation about him right now._ Dick’s glad the bite on his neck will have time to fade before he sees Jason again.

Bruce sighs, prodding at his bruised jaw with his fingers. “He’s going to need training. I won’t let him go out again until I’m confident he’s ready to handle anything the city has to throw at him.”

Dick looks at Bruce, then slowly raises himself up on his elbows, paying his face and body language close attention as he moves out of his prone position to a slightly less vulnerable one. “He just wants to hear you say yes, Bruce. Then I’m sure he’ll be willing to put in all the hours you think necessary to get himself up to speed before he puts a costume on again.”

“That’s not all.”

“What else is there?”

Bruce seems to be gathering himself, and this time the worry is naked on his face. “His beliefs…”

“Jay hasn’t killed anyone since we rescued him from Deathstroke.”

“But he still believes what he did before was right. He stopped because he had to, for Damian. Because if he hadn’t I would have been forced to see him locked up, and then he wouldn’t have been able to be with his son. I didn’t want to face the possibility of having to do that to him then, and I don’t want to have to face it again in the future.”

Dick feels a thread of unease start to wind its way into his heart. Almost more than for his life, Bruce is afraid for Jason’s soul. He knows the feeling. “He’s not the person he was, you know. He’s not the kid he was when he was murdered, and he’s not the man he was two years ago; he’s been healing.”

“I know. He went beyond what I expected him to with attending therapy and I’m proud of him for it. But I’m still afraid of what might happen should he ever find himself in a situation where he feels like he has to make that choice. I don’t want to…”

“We have to give him a chance.” Dick says quietly, “He needs us to give him that chance. To believe in him. Particularly from you. You need to prove you trust him, Bruce, not just say it. If you don’t nothing will ever change, and you’ll always be left wondering what the truth is.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” Bruce gives him an exasperated look, but it’s not a vicious one. Hope is given when he stands and offers Dick a hand back up his feet.

Without hesitation Dick takes it, ducking his head in grateful motion; a final submissive touch just in case. “You love it, you mean. That’s why you kept me around all these years, right?”

“Hm.” Bruce says noncommittally, letting go of his hand rather quickly.

Right, too much too soon. Dick grimaces. They might have resettled their pack order, but things are still a little frail between them. “Just, talk to him about this soon, okay? The longer you wait the worse it’s going to get.”

“Yes, you’ve made your point about that clear enough.” Bruce inclines his head in a nod. Then: “Shouldn’t you be heading back to Bludhaven?”

“Subtle. But yeah, you’re right. I should be.” Putting some space between them now is probably for the best.

Dick goes to pull his socks and boots back on, followed by his jacket, trying not to show too obviously how sore he is after their fight. He’s got about a forty minute ride ahead of him to Bludhaven to sit through yet, then a patrol to run so he can assess how his territory has been faring in his absence before he can afford to rest.

It’s going to be strange the way it always is to return to his lonely city and apartment after three weeks of being surrounded by family; doubly so without Jason and Damian now. Hopefully Jay will take him up on his offer for them to come stay in Bludhaven for a weekend soon, or vice versa. Dick really doesn’t mind where they are so long as he gets to see him.

One last thing occurs to him as he sits astride his bike and starts the engine. “Hey Bruce.”

His alpha’s head turns from the computer where Bruce has settled, eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“Keep an eye on Tim while you’re exercising those protective instincts, okay? He needs you too right now, just as much as Jason does.”

Dick waits for an affirming nod, then slips his helmet on over his head, guns the engine, and rides out of the cave for home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks. Happy Sunday! Hope you're doing well. Here's some more ABO for you all to enjoy while I face going back to work tomorrow after having a week off that went by way too fast. We're progressing another ongoing plot point with this chapter, with more fun stuff to come after XD

The week after his fight with Dick, Bruce finds Jason in the manor’s drawing room, stretched out along one of the antique leather couches with a book of Victorian poetry in hand. 

He’s not alone either. On the matching couch across the other side of the room Tim is sitting cross-legged with his laptop open in front of him, while on the floor Cassandra has taken on the responsibility of entertaining Damian for the afternoon. Their activity of finger-painting is probably one that would be best moved to the nursery or the kitchen table, but since Cass had the forethought to put an old sheet down first beneath the paper Bruce decides it’s up to Alfred to bring his wrath down upon them if they do manage to get paint on the carpet. 

Everyone already knows the risks when it comes to creating mess in this house. He doesn’t have to remind them.

Plus, on a more selfish note, Damian being distracted will also make it easier for Bruce to get the word with Jason in private that he sorely needs right now.

“Grandpa!” The toddler still pipes up as soon as he spots Bruce stepping in through the doorway, a delighted smile spreading across his face. Damian’s hand is currently covered in green paint, as is his face, t-shirt and hair, while beside him Cassandra is busy drawing flowers in yellow with delicate and precise swipes of her index finger. “Don’t look, you can’t look.”

“Don’t look at what, Damian?”

“My painting.” he points down, “You can’t look at it.”

“Oh, can’t I?” Bruce asks, playing along in good humour. It takes some effort not to automatically look downwards when Damian says that, but he manages it. “Why’s that?”

“Because, um… shh, secret!” Damian grins, dropping his head onto the paper and getting more paint on his face and in his hair. Bruce winces, but from where he is on the couch Jason doesn’t so much as blink as he turns another page in his book, apparently already resigned to the fact that his son is going to make a complete mess of himself today. “Auntie Cass said so.”

“Is that right, Cassandra?”

Whether she actually did or didn’t, Cassandra is quick to act on Damian’s cue, raising her finger to her lips and nodding. “Big secret, don’t look, Bruce.”

“I see.” he pretends to hum thoughtfully, before nodding. “Well, I’ll leave the both of you to it then. Jason?”

Jason slowly lowers his book at the sound of his name, looking suspiciously at Bruce over the top of the cover. Despite their talk last week, and Bruce’s assurance that he wouldn’t interfere in what was going on between him and Dick, Jason’s attitude towards him has remained frosty. It’s a situation that Bruce is hoping they’ll be able to fix between them today. “What?”

“I’d like to talk to you, in private, if you have a moment.”

On the other couch, Tim hasn’t looked up from his laptop screen once the entire time, but Bruce isn’t distracted enough to not notice the sudden absence of the sound of any keys being hit from that direction, an obvious sign that he’s listening in. Too obvious actually; if Tim really didn’t want Bruce to know it, he’d do a better job of hiding his interest in their conversation.

Jason scowls at him for a moment longer, clearly trying to work out what Bruce’s game is before he says yes, before sighing and closing his book. “Fine.” Curiously, he spares a glance towards Tim first, then to Damian as he stands up. “Stay here with Auntie Cass and Tim-Tim, okay, Damian? I won’t be long.”

“‘Kay, Mommy.” Damian says absently, as he reaches for the nearby pot of red paint, dipping near enough his entire hand into it and then slapping it down on top the paper across the half dozen other handprints that have already been left there in a variety of different colours.

Bruce winces again, but Jason just snorts as he reaches his side, “Jesus, give him a piece of paper and something to cover it with and it’s like I might as well not exist anymore.”

“We should get him more art supplies, if that’s what he enjoys.”

“Sure, I guess.” Jason shrugs, with a fond smile towards his son that quickly turns into a warning look when he directs his attention back at Bruce, “Just do me a favour and wait until his birthday or Christmas, okay? He’s already been spoiled enough lately. His head doesn’t need to get any bigger.”

“Jason, I was only -”

“ _No_. I’m serious, his birthday is literally three weeks away, and Christmas is a month after that. It can wait, Bruce.” He glares at him until Bruce backs down, acknowledging Jason’s ultimate authority as Damian’s parent with a slight dip of his head.

Considering what they’re about to discuss, it would be unwise of him to risk riling him up any further.

“All right, on his birthday then.”

“Good.” Jason sighs, brushing a stray curl of hair back from his face before folding his arms across his chest, “So, talk?”

Bruce nods, “In the study would be best, I think.”

He leads the way down the corridor, tracking the sound of Jason’s footsteps behind him through the ancient hallways of Wayne Manor. His main study is on the other side of the house, more than a few doors down from the drawing room and out of the way from where any visitors could easily discover it if they decided to take to wandering the building during one of the various soirees he was sometimes required to hold here as part of his public persona. Bruce usually keeps the room locked when he’s not using it, even though he doesn’t actually keep any terribly sensitive information inside, and the locking mechanism installed in the door is child's play to his pack and anyone like them.

Bruce unlocks the door now, using a small brass key that he keeps his pocket during daylight hours, then gestures for Jason to go inside ahead of him. The study is small compared to many rooms in the manor, but still big enough to fit a large mahogany desk, bookshelves, and three leather wingback chairs inside of it; two placed in front of the desk, and one behind.

Under his watch,Jason moves over to one of the chairs in front now, slumping down onto the seat with his legs crossed over at the ankles, while continuing to give Bruce the stink eye as he finishes shutting the door behind him to give them some privacy.

Bruce briefly considers moving to sit behind the desk for this conversation, before deciding that would turn things all too formal. The barrier might serve to make _him_ more comfortable, but it’s Jason who he wants to try and put at ease here, so Bruce chooses the other seat in front of the desk instead, after turning the chair round so that he and Jason are looking directly at each other rather than towards one of the bookshelves.

Beginning turns out to be a lot more difficult than he initially thought it would be.

Over the past week, ever since he and Dick had left each other bruised and bleeding on the cave floor, Bruce has thought of almost nothing else but this conversation. How he was going to begin it, the questions he would ask, and finally, the verdict he would give at the end. But the words are harder to get out with Jason looking right back at him, jaw set and arms loosely folded across his belly.

It had actually been easier to work on things with Tim, once Bruce decided to make a conscious effort to suggest they patrol together a few more nights each week, rather than keep letting his youngest Robin go off alone into the city so much. A suggestion that seems to be working to improve Tim’s general mood, so far as he can tell - though Bruce continues to kick himself in the back for not realising how bad things still were with the current Robin before Dick pointed it out to him. He should have known better, all things considered. Bruce had such intimate knowledge of how terrible and ravenous a creature grief was, and Tim’s latest loss - the third in a devastating string of them over the space of the past two years - was still so recent. He should have -

“Hey, Earth to Bruce, are you in there?”

… Right. Bruce steels himself, knowing he can’t follow that train of thought any further right now. Today is about fixing things with Jason, not Tim. “I’m sorry, I was just... thinking.”

“Dangerous habit, so they tell me.” Jason raises his eyebrows at him, “What’s this about, B?”

Bruce takes a deep breath, then rubs his forehead before plunging forwards into the conversation. “I wanted to straighten things out between us, Jason. A lot has changed recently, and I want to be sure we understand each other. I know you’re mad at me for -”

“For what? Being an asshole?” Jason snorts, starting to look a little more uncomfortable. It’s hard for both of them to sit here like this and try to be honest with each other. “Sure, go ahead. Shoot.”

Bruce grits his teeth, reminds himself to breathe, and that Jason always acts this way when he feels threatened. “I know I didn’t give you the answer you wanted to hear before regarding you taking up your Red Hood identity again, but I need you to understand I didn’t do it out of a wish to hurt you. I did it because the timing was poor, and I was concerned for you. You’ve been out of the field for two years, I can’t let you just walk back into it.”

“I wasn’t asking you to let me just jump back into it, B.” Jason says bitterly, now that he knows exactly what Bruce is talking about. Not him and Dick - which is a whole other kettle of fish and something Bruce has already said his piece on twice over now, but this. His intention to become a vigilante once again. “I know I need to get back into shape first, but you could’ve just said that instead of fucking dismissing me the way you did. It’s not hard to say, ‘Sure, Jason’ and tell me I need to practice first, instead of that bullshit non-answer you gave before.”

“I know.”

“I’m not a kid, not anymore. And those excuses you said to me, about Damian, about… they fucking hurt okay.” Jason’s not looking at him now, his eyes are firmly routed on studying one of the bookshelves across the room instead. “I was trying to be good by coming to you first. And I’ve done everything you asked me to do the past two years, so I thought… It thought that would’ve been worth some faith, y’know? Not…”

“Jason.” Bruce says softly, keeping his voice purposefully low. He can smell Jason’s distress starting to filter through the enclosed space between them, tugging on the strings of his instincts to move forwards and comfort him with the press of his body, rather than his words. “That’s not what I meant to do.”

“But it’s still what you did.”

“I know.” He can’t deny it, “And this isn’t me making an excuse for that behaviour, I just want you to understand where I’m coming from, Jason. It’s hard for me to… with you, especially. I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why.”

“I died. I know. It’s the great fuck-up of my life.” Jason digs his fingers tighter into the flesh of his arms, “But that’s not what defines me, Bruce. It happened, and it’s never going to have not happened. Look, I know I’m only alive here now because some unknown power decided I should be, but I can’t - you can’t - keep letting that hold me back, okay? I need to keep moving past it, and so do you. That’s why I made you get rid of that horrible memorial case you had down in the cave, for fuck’s sake.”

Bruce smiles a little at the memory, unpleasant as it was, “I thought that was your therapist’s idea?”

“Fuck off, it was mine.” Jason darts a look at him. “Mostly. She just encouraged me.”

“Hm.” He looks down at his own folded hands for a moment, smile fading. “Losing you was one of the worst days of my life, and I’ll never stop blaming myself for it happening to you, Jason. I’m thankful for each day now that you’re home again, I want you to know that. And also that -” he takes a deep breath before admitting this next part, “- you are right, it’s unfair of me to hold you back because of that. You’re smart and capable, Jason. Just as much as any of the others are, and as hard as it is, I can’t let my instincts continue to rule me when it comes to making decisions about you. If I did…” Bruce shakes his head, “I’d probably never let you leave the manor.”

Jason snorts at the blunt admission of alpha protectiveness, but is otherwise silent. He’s rapt with attention, waiting for Bruce to go on.

“That’s why I’ve been thinking about your request a lot this past week. I know what it would mean to you to go out again.”

“I want to help people, Bruce.” Jason says quietly, cautiously, as if he doesn’t want to let himself hope. “You taught me to do that. And I can still do it, if you just give me a chance.”

He’s partially right. Bruce did teach him how to be a crimefighter, but not how to be a good perso, because Jason had never needed help with that. He was the only one to blame for Jason ever putting on a uniform and taking to the rooftops in the first place. 

The only one to blame for a great many things. 

“I know. Which is why I decided we needed to have this talk.”

“So you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying we’ll give it a try.” Bruce corrects him, “And once you pass my tests and I’m certain you’re ready for it, then you can start patrolling again.”

“Shit, Bruce.” Jason replies, unlocking his arms finally so he can reach up and rub his face. It’s like a dam breaking the way relief just kind of washes over him. “That’s… okay. Not fucking perfect, but y’know, since it’s you I guess I’ll have to take what I can get. Even when you’re trying to be nice you still come off sounding like a jerk half the time.”

“Jason.” He says with a low growl, not appreciating the dig. This is hard enough for him as it is.

Jason stops, but he doesn’t drop his head in apology or give Bruce anymore ground than that. 

He’s always been that way, ever since Bruce first took him in. A scrawny, half-starved boy that Bruce hadn’t even realised was an omega until Alfred managed to get him into a bath and wash the smell of garbage off of him - an odour Bruce had subsequently realised Jason coated himself in as a disguise against others discovering his gender, which had only raised his opinion of the feral boy’s capabilities back then. And that was Jason to him in a nutshell: always defiant, always ready to stand his ground and subvert society’s expectations in doing so. Bruce swore that out all of his children Jason had been the one to give him more heart attacks _out_ of costume than in when he was a boy. Far more than Dick and Tim ever had, at any rate.

“Right, sorry not sorry, whatever.” Jason grimaces, unhooking his ankles so he can tap one foot against the floor. “So how exactly is this going to work? I get to come use the training equipment in the cave now like a big boy?”

“Use it openly, you mean. Rather than sneaking in sparring sessions with Tim when you think I’m not around.” Bruce points out, and Jason blushes at knowing they were caught, folding his arms again as he slumps down further in his seat to glower at Bruce. “But yes, that. As well as studying up on the new methods and equipment we’ve developed since the last time you were last active.”

“This is going to be the gauntlet all over again, isn’t it. Can we try not to put Alfred at risk of grievous bodily-harm this time, at least?”

Bruce snorts unexpectedly at the memory, and tries to cover it with a cough while ignoring Jason’s knowing smirk. “I don’t think we’ll need to go quite that far.”

“I’m sure Alf will be relieved to hear it.”

“Hm, well. Just to be safe, let’s not bring it up to him.” Bruce says dryly, before turning serious again. “I’m not going to take it easy on you, Jason. Halloween may be over, but it’s still dangerous out there.”

“B, it’s always dangerous out there. And I don’t expect you to. If you did, I’d kick your ass for it.” Jason agrees, at the same time as shaking his head. “I get it, and I’m ready for whatever you want throw at me.”

That’s good, Bruce reflects, because there is one last point he needs to bring up before they’re done here. The most unpleasant one as a matter of fact. “I may not need to say this to you. I _hope_ that I don’t need to say it, but Jason -”

“No killing. Yeah, I know. You think I would’ve bothered asking if I didn’t? We already agreed to that two years ago.” Jason says, “And I’m not going to…” he sighs, “Look, I still think I’m right about that, as I’m sure you know. But I get it, and not just because you don’t want me to. Because…” he bites his lip, continuing before Bruce has a chance to ask what it is he means, “I’ve got Damian now, and he’s more important to me than any of that. One day he’s going to find out about this, about all of it, and when he does...” Jason looks down, “I don’t want him to know me as a killer, B. He’s already got one parent for that, so yeah, you don’t have to worry about me pulling the trigger on anyone anymore. Not unless it’s life or death. Same agreement as we had before.”

It twists Bruce heart to hear Jason speak that way. To hear him pledge not to kill anyone without having to be asked, and maybe Bruce would still like Jason to do it because he agrees with him that killing is wrong in all circumstances, but as far as reasons went, he can’t argue against Jason’s love for Damian being the driving factor.

“I understand.” Bruce says quietly, “That’s fine, Jason.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jason looks uncertainly at him, “So is that it? Are we cool now?”

“Yes, son, we’re ‘cool’.”

“Good.” Jason sighs, looking down. He seems to sag with relief again now that they’ve reached an agreement, and Bruce knows exactly how he feels. He’s actually about to say something about that when when Jason looks back over at him, squinting at Bruce across the room, and says. “It’s so weird to hear you say that.”

“What?” Bruce asks, raising an eyebrow in question. “Cool?”

“Yeah, it’s like… I don’t know, Alfred saying ‘groovy’.”

“Jason.” Bruce says, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m forty, not seventy.”

Jason grins, which suggests Bruce has walked right into the trap Jason wanted him to, “Yeah, but you’re a grandpa now. Grandpas aren’t allowed to talk like that.”

“Well, I don’t recall being the one to suggest Damian call me that.” Bruce says, standing up with as much dignity as he can manage in this situation. He offers out his hand to Jason, who stares at it for a long time before finally taking hold and allowing Bruce to help him back up onto his feet; more as a physical gesture to cement their peacemaking than out of any actual gratefulness or need, Bruce is sure.

“Maybe not, but I know you love it.” Jason’s lips remain turned up into a smile before he lets go of Bruce’s hand. He looks cautiously happy, as if a well of joy and relief is threatening to burst up out of him from its secret hiding place. Bruce is forced to hide a smile of his own as a result.

As for that point about Damian… that Bruce can’t deny. “Speaking of…”

“Yeah, we should probably go make sure I still have a toddler left under all that paint. I hope you and Alfred have room for another masterpiece on your walls, because I’m pretty sure Cass went for the biggest piece of paper she could possibly find.” Jason runs his hand back through his hair before he heads for the door and out into the hallway. Bruce follows after him, just one step behind once he’s finished locking the door again.

“Always, and if you need to, you can take that sheet to put in your car, so he doesn’t get paint all over the seats.”

“Thanks for the offer, B, but it’s okay. I always keep some spare clothes for Damian up here, so I’ll just give him a scrub in one of those swimming pools you call bathtubs before we head back.”

Bruce isn’t surprised. The levels of preparation that Jason has reached as a mother put even Batman’s utility belt to shame. It doesn’t seem like there’s a single eventuality with Damian for which he’s not ready.

They make it about halfway back to the drawing room before Jason suddenly stops, sucking on his teeth as he looks back over his shoulder at Bruce. He seems to thinking something over, and Bruce lets him work himself up to it, curious as to what it is and hoping they’re not about to get into another argument already when they’ve just finished resolving the last one.

“So how good are things between you and Selina right now?”

Bruce almost chokes on the air around him, but somehow manages to keep his cool. That was the last thing he expected to come out of Jason’s mouth. “... I… fine. Why do you ask?”

“Because,” Jason says, looking a little like he’s having teeth pulled by an invisible dentist, “I need you to ask her to do a favour for me. Well for Damian, in time for Christmas.”

He’s momentarily bewildered, at first wondering if this is leading into some kind of payback for his own issues regarding Jason and Dick’s relationship for a moment, before it all clicks together. 

“You want her to find Damian a kitten.”

“Shh!” Jason hisses, casting a look back up at the hall. “Don’t say the damn word, I swear he has ears like a… well, you know. When it comes to animals, anyway.”

This time Bruce can’t quite bite back a laugh, and Jason gives him a sour look for it. “Sorry. I thought you said you were waiting until he was older?”

“Yeah, well, I said that the first time he asked back when he was two. And he is older now, so I figure I’ll give him a chance. Then if it does turn out he’s still not ready to handle having a pet it can just live up here with you and keep your miserable ass company instead.”

“Ah, I see. And if that eventuality does come to pass, were you actually planning on asking myself or Alfred for permission for the ca -” Jason glares at him, “- for the animal to live here?”

Jason grins once more, shakes his head, and for a moment Bruce doesn’t see him as the twenty-one year old man he is now, he’s sees a fifteen year old boy instead. Cocksure and ready to take on the world, despite the fact that the top of his head barely reached Bruce’s shoulder. “Nah, I know you wouldn’t say no to me, old man. And you definitely wouldn’t dare put out a pet Selina gave you to take care of.”

“Good point.” Bruce concedes. He has ample memories of the effectiveness of Selina’s claws in more situations than one - though he still hopes that Damian will prove an able cat caretaker so that won’t have to happen. He’s not sure how well Alfred would cope with having to dig cat hair out of the furnishings on top of all his other duties. “I’ll speak to her for you.”

“Thanks.” Jason shifts a little. They look at each other, and it’s… well, still relieving that Jason doesn’t seem to be angry with him anymore. Bruce only wishes things didn’t always have to be so complicated between them now; he’s made his way through actual minefields that were easier to navigate than the flux of Jason’s emotions sometimes. “I guess we’ll be hanging around up here a lot more now, what with me coming back onto the team.”

“I really don’t mind that, Jason. It’s always a pleasure having the two of you at home.”

Jason stares, opens his mouth a little, then closes it just as quickly before shaking his head. Bruce has no time to react before he’s stepping closer to him, close enough that he can’t miss the warm richness of Jason’s scent as he pushes their shoulders together and leans against him, close enough that the soft curls of his hair tickles Bruce’s jaw. 

“Sappy old fuck.” Jason mutters.

“Careful,” Bruce replies, just as quietly, hardly daring to move in the face of Jason initiating even this small contact between them. “If Alfred or Damian hear you, that’ll be money in the swear jar.”

“Yeah, I know, but so long as you don’t squeal on me, I think I’ll be fine.”

Bruce smiles, then puts his hand on Jason’s other shoulder and squeezes gently, barely holding back the rich purr that wants to rise up out of the back of his throat. “I think I can manage that.”

*

“So he said yes?”

“He said yes.” Jason replies, keeping the phone pinned to his ear with his shoulder as he stirs the bolognese he and Damian are having for dinner tonight in the saucepan. “Just like that. It was a little weird but… whatever, I’m not going to complain about a good thing.” Not today anyway. He shrugs, even though Dick can’t see the motion, and has to catch the phone with his hand before it can fall into the sauce so that their conversation doesn’t end prematurely. “As of today I am officially enrolled back in vigilante school.”

He can practically hear Dick smiling on the other end of the line, “I told you he’d agree if you just gave him some time to think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re always right, shuddup.” Jason rolls his eyes, before lifting the wooden spoon up to his mouth so he can taste the sauce. He thinks it could take a little more seasoning before it’s done.

“So does this mean I can take you out for another night on the town soon?”

Jason grins to himself at the thought. After the first time around with Dick, running across Gotham’s rooftops always seems like a good time to him. “Hm, so long as you swear to keep me out of trouble, I can probably swing that with the old man. I do need to practice my parkour along with everything else.”

“And your acrobatics. I could help with those too, I mean. If you need someone to help you with your stretches...”

“ _Dick._ ” Jason listens to him laughing at him down the phone. It doesn’t take much for him to imagine Dick in his Bludhaven apartment right now, probably hanging upside down from the furniture or hunched over his computer while talking to him. Maybe shirtless, maybe not. Jason’s imagination opts for the former. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, and my kid’s awake. Save that kind of talk for the nighttime.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dick says, and Jason can smell the bullshit in his voice even from Gotham. “I was just making a perfectly innocent offer. But if that’s an invitation, I could probably swing round tonight…”

“Oh could you?” He adds a little more salt to the sauce and turns the heat down on the hob, before going to the cupboard to grab the pack of spaghetti. “I didn’t know my apartment was part of your patrol route.”

“Anywhere you are is always part of my patrol route.” Dick chirps, and it’s such a _line_ that Jason ends up dropping the (thankfully unopened) packet almost as soon as he grabs it, he’s laughing so hard. 

“Jesus, _Dick_. You cornball.”

“Whaaat?” Dick says, trying to sound offended and completely failing. “You know you love it.”

“Shut up. I don’t. You’re just an embarrassing idiot.” He manages to quell his laughter down to small chuckles, trying not to think about how he sounds like some besotted teenager with a crush still when a small hand tugs on his jeans and he looks down to see Damian stood next to him, holding up the pack of spaghetti that he’s just picked up off the floor.

“Dropped it, Mommy. You dropped it.”

“Wow, I sure did, buddy. Thank you.” Jason replies, taking the spaghetti packet off of Damian and placing it on the side before ruffling his son’s hair, smiling when he starts giggling himself. “You’re a good boy helping mommy.”

Never one to miss an opportunity, Dick chooses that moment to chime in, “What about me, _Mommy_? I’m a good boy too, right?” down the phone, and Jason - Jason absolutely cannot keep a straight face. He bursts out laughing again, because it’s too weird, and quite frankly _disturbing_ , for him not to.

“Jesus, Dick, that’s disgusting, please never do that again.” He has to wipe tears of mirth out of the corners of his eyes while Damian tugs at his pants again, demanding to know what’s funny. “Nothing, baby.” Jason’s forced to say, while Dick continues laughing raucously in his ear, “Uncle Duck’s just being silly on the phone.”

“Uncle Duck?” Damian asks, tilting his head.

“That’s right.”

Damian looks thoughtful, then reaches up, his hands making grasping motions at the empty air. “I wanna talk!”

Why is he not surprised? But at least it’s Damian back to being his usual enthusiastic self about Dick, rather than treating him as public enemy number one like he was before. He’s perked right back up in the last week, in keeping with Jason’s own improved mood. “Okay, okay. Hang on.” He pokes Damian in the nose to make him go cross-eyed while he talks to Dick, “Hey, Damian wants to talk to you now. You don’t mind, right?”

“When do I ever? Go ahead and put him on, Jay.” Dick says pleasantly, doubtlessly thinking the same thing. “I’ll talk to you more in a bit, okay?”

“Sure.” Jason agrees, “Here Dami, why don’t you tell Uncle Duck about your birthday plans while I finish making us dinner.” he crouches down to carefully hand the phone over to Damian after putting it on speakerphone, making sure his fingers are firmly away from the end-call button so they don’t have another meltdown like they did the last time he accidentally hung up on someone. 

As he does Jason catches a glimpse of Dick’s picture displayed on the screen, sporting his usual sparkling grin, and maybe his stomach does a little flip inside of him as Damian scurries off with the phone to sit back down in front of TV.

Jason shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on boiling the spaghetti and little else. He can hear Damian chattering away on the other side of the room the entire time he’s cooking, telling Dick about all the presents he’s going to get and the party he’s going to have, as well the fact that Lian is coming to stay and that’s apparently the best thing ever. She’s the only real friend Damian has his own age, and well… Jason feels a little bad about that, knowing it’s his own fault for not giving Damian more opportunities to mix with other children his own age. It’s just that he can’t - can’t _risk_ leaving him anywhere where he doesn’t know Damian is completely safe, not when Talia’s still out there, probably waiting in the wings for him to let his guard down.

Sometimes it feels like everywhere he turns with Damian, the fact that he shares al Ghul blood will never stop controlling their lives. He doesn’t even want to start thinking yet about what he’ll be like when Damian’s supposed to start school in a year - even if Bruce had offered to pay the tuition fees multiple times so that he can attend a private institution rather than a far less secure public school.

He just wants Damian to be able to live a normal life, or at least as close to one as he can feasibly get. Yet at this rate...

Jason forces himself to take a deep breath as he looks down at the boiling pot of water on the stove in front of him. That’s not a place he needs to let his mind go to right now. Things are good with Dick, Bruce has given him his blessing to start training to go back out on the streets again, and Damian is going to be four in three weeks time. There’s plenty for him to be happy about without wasting time worrying over an unknown future.

Pushing any darker thoughts he has out of his mind, Jason focuses on finishing up dinner. Then when it’s done he returns to Damian, and they say goodbye to Dick together down the phone before going to sit down at the table to eat. 

They spend the rest of the time before Damian’s ready to go to bed playing. Then Jason puts him in his pyjamas and settles down onto the bed next to him to read the book that’s currently his favourite before tucking Damian in and kissing him goodnight.

It was worth it, he knows. Sleeping with Talia, getting pregnant and everything that happened after. It was worth it, so long as Damian is happy. Jason honestly can’t even begin to imagine the path his life would have taken without him, only that it would have been a much lonelier one.

He leaves Damian to sleep, spending the rest of his evening finishing up a few chores and enjoying the peace and quiet while he can, because soon enough life will get a lot busier for him, that Jason does know.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back with these two this week. I missed them, and this chapter is a turning point in more ways than one, so I hope you guys enjoy it!

A park full of screaming children is usually the last place on earth Jason would find relaxing, but with the month he’s been having, any place where he can let Damian run free and tire himself out has quickly turned into a blessing.

It’s two days before Damian’s birthday, four after Thanksgiving, and inside the gated off area of the playground, his son hops about and explores the slides and playsets while only nominally interacting with the other children. Damian’s caught up in his own narrative of play, outside the familiar friend groups and secondary pack connections the rest of the children have already established with each other. Yet that unintended exclusion doesn’t seem to bother him any, as Daw the dog remains his constant companion. Jason can’t figure out for the life of him what the game he’s playing is, but at least it looks like he’s having fun; which is good, because that preoccupation leaves him with plenty of time to consider his own state of affairs.

Namely that he’s beat. Completely, utterly, beat. Or on second thought, ‘beat’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. What he feels is exhausted, worn to the bone with activity, but it’s a good feeling, old and familiar. It reminds him of a hundred nights past, when he ran at Bruce’s side or was working on his own, and the certainty that each night when he went to bed he was leaving Gotham City just a little bit better than the way he found it.

Right now, that last part is still wishful thinking. Sparring practice with Tim and Cass, nightly homework about the updated techniques the pack is using, and reading through criminal files to make sure he’s up to date on the city’s current level of depravity is a start, but Jason knows he’s some way off yet from actually getting that vote of confidence to step back out on patrol. He’s taking the first steps, though, and that’s what matters. Within a few months, he’s confident Bruce will agree that he’s ready to be a vigilante again. He just has to be patient, that’s all.

… which is easier said than done. Patience has never been his strong suit, especially over something so meaningful, but at least this time around - unlike the first time he went through basic training - Jason has other distractions to keep him from chafing at the bit too much.

Damian mostly. His son is, and always will be, his first and most important priority. No matter how busy he gets with his new activities, Jason always makes sure that there’s as little disruption to Damian’s life as possible. Working around him rather than changing his son’s routine to suit his own needs. They still eat together, play together, and study together too; as Damian continues to come on leaps and bounds with his reading and counting skills, at an above-average rate for his age group (Jason knows, he checked).

And then there’s Dick, whose unceasing energy makes him as exhausting in other ways. Namely because - unlike his actual kid - his antics with Jason don’t stop upon nightfall. Rather, they pick _up_.

Yet despite the weariness in his bones, Jason doesn’t regret it. Can’t regret it.

He can’t regret the phone calls at odd hours of the day and night. The surprise visits Dick only remembers to warn him about at the last minute so Jason doesn’t hurl a batarang in his face. He can’t regret the courting gifts that show up when he least expects them. Flowers and chocolates at first (because Dick apparently learned everything he knows about romance from nineties rom-coms), that are later made up for with books off the ‘to read’ list he keeps pinned to his refrigerator and late night runs whenever they can persuade one of the others to postpone their own patrol in the name of guarding Damian for him (runs that always seem to end with Jason pinned against a rooftop or some filthy alley wall while Dick kisses him senseless).

It doesn’t feel right that he can be so happy. Every day he keeps telling himself the ball will drop soon. That something will go wrong. That Dick will get tired of him; of dancing round his various traumas and paranoia. His many, _many_ insecurities. His unwillingness to take that final step forwards in the bedroom until now, despite all the other ground he’s given to him so far, and the rare occasions when nightmares disturbed the nights when they slept together in the literal sense.

But he hasn’t. Over a month later they’re still going strong. Stronger than Jason ever believed was possible. Sure, they’ve had some arguments, but they were always over little things. Silly things. Things Jason figured couples were supposed to be able to have arguments about and still come out the other side whole from, rather than the earth-shaking and plate-shattering shouting matches he gingerly remembers his own parents having with each other while he hid under the kitchen table.

And after tonight...

After tonight, Jason hopes they’ll be going even stronger. Dick’s coming to stay with them for Damian’s birthday, ahead of Roy and Lian, who’ll be arriving on the actual day. It’s time that Jason plans to take advantage of. Time he hopes in which he’ll finally be able to give Dick everything he’s been waiting for - and maybe prove to himself once and for all that this relationship is more than temporary.

Picking up the bag of kid supplies he always carries with him when he takes Damian anywhere, Jason stands up from the bench he’s been sitting on and walks over to the fence of the playground. He takes care not to stand too close to any of the other parents, who have at times tried to draw him into conversations with them before - an always uncomfortable experience he’s unwilling to repeat today, when he’s already got so much on his mind.

“Damian!” he calls, then repeats it a second time when his son doesn’t immediately look up from where he’s sitting hunched over with his back towards Jason by the raised playhouse. It looks like he’s digging at the woodchip covered ground, and Jason hopes that’s not the case, because getting all those little splinters out of the gloves he’s wearing will be a bitch.

He has to shout a third time before Damian takes notice and scampers back to him. Jason doesn’t bother walking him over to the gate. Instead, he leans down and grabs Damian under his armpits, taking the quicker route of lifting him right over the metal railing, much to his delight.

“Higher!” Damian shrieks, waving his arms high enough that Jason is almost smacked in the face by Daw, who swings by one paw from his son’s hand.

“I don’t think so, little man,” Jason says, hiding a grimace at the ripple of pain through his shoulder, “Mommy’s got a bad back, and you,” he pokes his nose, “are getting bigger every day.” _Not to mention, your Auntie Cass hits like a demon._

“I’m got to be big as you.” Damian declares. “Big as a giant.”

“Going to.” Jason corrects idly, while hoping that’s not a comment on his weight. “Oh yeah? And when will that be?”

Without missing a beat, Damian replies, “When I am six. Six is _old_.”

He snorts as he adjusts Damian’s play-rumpled coat and scarf, before taking his gloved hand in his own and starting to walk them down the path that leads towards the closest exit from the park to their building. “Six, huh. Well I guess I better get a lot of cuddling in while I still can in that case. If you get too big, I may not be able to do it anymore.”

Damian thinks about this, his eyebrows drawn into a severe frown, before he finally decides on a suitable answer, “If I big enough, I carry an’ cuddle you.”

Jason blinks before looking down. Damian’s expression is perfectly serious as he returns his look, and he smiles in turn, utterly charmed by this expression of foolproof child logic; so much easier to deal with than any adult reasoning.

“I think I can live with that.” He squeezes Damian’s hand. “Come on, little man, let’s get you home. No one grows that tall on an empty stomach.”

And after dinner, he’s got a few things left to take care of before Dick arrives.

 

*

 

When Jason wakes up later that night, it’s to the gentle graze of gloved fingers at his shoulder, and the cool press of lips against his temple. He doesn’t panic at the touches, but instead inhales deeply, getting just the faintest hint of caramel in his nose over the top of the smell of rain and late November air from the world outside his window.

“Hey.” Dick murmurs against his skin.

He’s taken off his neutraliser patches and domino mask already, a fact Jason deeply appreciates.

“Hey.” he echoes, rolling over onto his back, turning so that their noses brush and Dick can drop a kiss onto his lips. “Time s’it?”

“A little after one. Have you been asleep long?”

“Mm, about an hour. Done for the night already?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Anything interesting happen?” Jason brushes his thumb through Dick’s hair. It’s damp from the rain he can still hear spattering against the glass outside.

“Oh you know, just the usual.” Dick grins down at him, features turned soft by the yellow light of the bedside lamp he’d turned on after entering Jason’s bedroom. “Fought the bad guys. Saved the day. Rescued the pretty omega damsel in distress.”

Jason snorts at the summary, “Let me guess, they tried to kiss the valiant alpha hero out of gratitude?”

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“That depends on how you followed through.”

“I told them thanks, but no thanks.” Dick’s mouth barely brushes his this time, but his scent is strengthening with every second that passes. “I’m already taken.”

“Good answer.”

He pulls Dick down to him, not caring about the scattered raindrops that slip and fall from his suit onto the bedsheets. The warm pressure of his mouth, and the push of Dick’s leg between his own through the comforter as he braces his hands on either side of Jason’s shoulders, more than makes up for it.

But he does shiver when Dick cups his thigh in his hand; when he nuzzles down Jason’s chin to his neck. When his teeth nip at his skin before his tongue drags up and under his ear, stopping tantalisingly short of the sensitive gland behind it.

Jason slips his hand up Dick’s neck from his shoulder, pushing against the back of his skull as he tilts his head back in blatant encouragement. Just a month ago it would have been unthinkable for him to be so brazen about his desire, but a lot has changed since then. In more ways than one.

“Jay…” Dick sighs at his action, before lapping the point of his tongue in behind his ear. Jason gasps this time, legs squeezing around Dick’s own between them.

“Mm.”

Without waiting for permission, he reaches for the back of Dick’s suit, fingers deftly finding and undoing the catches of the Nightwing uniform. Unlike the first panicked time this happened on Halloween, Jason’s now something of an expert of getting it open; eager to slide the zipper down and get his hands on the warm skin of Dick’s back. The effect is better viewed from behind, the slow reveal of gold-tinted skin more titillating to watch than a striptease, but still pleasurable enough when viewed from this angle as well.

Dick arches at the push of his hands beneath the armoured fabric. Against the brush of Jason’s fingers against the expanse of his scarred muscle. The top of the suit slips further down, catching just below Dick’s shoulders as he cups Jason’s jaw and continues to lather affection on his gland. “Thought about this all day today." he murmurs, "About you. How much I couldn’t wait to see you.”

Jason bites back a moan as he rolls his hips upwards. “It’s… ah... only been three days, you really miss me that much already?”

“What do you think?” Dick answers, before pushing back with a powerful thrust downwards. Jason can’t really feel much other than the protective cup he wears under his suit, but the message is clear enough. “Missed you. Missed your scent, your voice…” The hand on Jason’s thigh squeezes again. “Your _incredible_ legs.”

He laughs, before biting the inside of his cheek at the way his nerves jump with the contact. “Still on that?”

“I wouldn’t be if they weren’t so sexy.” Dick groans, lifting his head up to kiss Jason again. His mouth is covered in pheromones from teasing his scent gland; so thick and wanting that Jason can’t help actually being aroused at his _own_ scent for once. “Need to get you some skinny jeans. Or… stockings, have you ever considered wearing stockings?”

“Are you high?” Jason asks, still amused as he blushes red and his thighs squeeze together around Dick’s leg between them.

“No, I’m serious. Lacey red stockings. Maybe with a garter.” Dick slides his hand down to the bend of Jason’s knee, shoving down the comforter and using the grip to push that leg up towards his chest. “With ribbons, and -”

“Oh my God.”

“- maybe some matching panties.” Caramel is filling Jason’s nose as Dick keeps voicing his fantasy. “And Christmas is coming, I bet you could get some really nice-”

“I swear to God, Dick, if you buy me lingerie for Christmas, I’ll kick your ass.”

Dick smirks at how flustered he’s become. “But Jay, it’s not a surprise for _me_ if I buy it for you.”

Jason hits him across the back of the head as he starts laughing again, harder this time. It shouldn’t even be that funny, but in this situation it is. He can’t imagine himself wearing anything like that, at least not in the same way Dick evidently can.

“Well, if it’s a surprise you want...” With a twist of his hips and a heavy application of force, Jason flips them over, pushing Dick onto his back as he straddles his waist. It’s not as smooth as he would like - pulling on his bruised shoulder, and twisting the blankets around his waist and over Dick’s legs - but he’s on top, which is what matters most in the moment. “I think I have something in mind.”

Dick grins up at him, greedily watching as he sheds his nightshirt. “Do I have to wait for Christmas to open it?”

“Not this time.” Jason smirks, fingers trailing down Dick’s armoured chest. He traces the brilliant blue V from shoulder to shoulder, before grasping his right hand and bringing it to his lips. With a wicked grin Jason first kisses the tips of his two blue-striped fingers, then reaches for the fastenings of the gauntlet, disengaging the locks that hold it to the rest of Dick’s uniform and sliding it off. Only when he’s certain Dick is watching does he take his fingers into his mouth and start to suck on them.

“Jay…” Dick’s eyes widen, turning almost completely black with concentrated lust. His hips buck up, hard enough to almost throw Jason off him, and with every passing second his scent is becoming stronger, thickening the air with the energy of a thundercloud about to burst.

When he visits Jason after patrol it’s always the same. Dick practically _vibrates_ with leftover adrenaline from the fight, waiting only for a ready catalyst to set him off.

More often than not, Jason is perfectly happy to be that catalyst.

He lets Dick’s fingers slip from his mouth, whereupon they immediately trail down his chin and onto his chest, leaving a line of glistening saliva in their wake. Jason shivers when Dick pinches one of his erect nipples, when he rubs it with his thumb, eyes staying focused on his face to watch his reaction.

Roughly six weeks of this, and every touch still feels electric and new. Jason’s belief that the intoxicating nature of the opening honeymoon period of their relationship would soon fade and make it easier to think clearly around Dick has turned out to be a fool’s hope. If anything it’s gotten worse, and never is that more true than when they’re in bed together.

Being around Dick feels like being a teenager in heat again, helpless and needy. Only this time, he’s not alone. This time, his fantasies are reality, not just a figment of his own desperate imagination. Every thought and feeling he has about Dick can become real, if only he has the courage to reach out and make them that way.

“So about your surprise..,” Jason licks his lips, which feel suddenly cracked and dry. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Dangerous habit.” Dick supplies, stealing his usual line and only laughing when Jason smacks his chest in retaliation for it.

“Moron.” He grumbles.

“Sorry, baby,” Dick replies, smiling up at him. The endearment does nothing to help the slowly forming knot in Jason’s stomach. “Carry on.”

Jason leans down, hovering above him so that their faces are only inches away from one another. “I’ve been thinking about this. About…” Dick’s hands slide down to his waist, “You. How much I want you.” He shivers and rolls his hips, causing his boyfriend to groan. When he speaks next, the words are uttered right against Dick’s lips. “About how much I need you to fuck me.”

He feels the way Dick’s body suddenly goes taut beneath him. Can’t miss it at this proximity.

“Jay…” He whispers, the word a single frantic puff of air over his skin. “You…”

“Yeah.”

It must sound spontaneous to Dick, hearing it this way. But for Jason, it’s anything but. He really has been thinking about this. Planning for it. Considered this night to be the moment. Ever since the day he’d finally gotten off his ass and visited Leslie’s clinic to get his birth control sorted it’s been on his mind.

He’d even put up with having to listen to her disapproving lecture - eerily similar to Roy’s - about his extended use of suppressant pills to get it.

“Are you sure you -”

Jason silences him with a kiss. “I told you a month ago, big bird,” he murmurs once it’s broken, “I want this. I want _you_.”

Dick’s alpha scent is now so strong that Jason feels like he may choke on it, even as it feeds the instincts of his hind brain to tell him that he’s safe and protected. More akin to the congealed weight of syrup rather than caramel. Still sharp but overwhelmingly sweet.

Jason knows that the comparison of a person’s scent to other things (food, flowers etc.) is purely in the mind - a way to pick out compatible partners and family - but the thought still makes his mouth water.

“Okay.” Dick says finally, sounding like someone just rubbed sandpaper down the inside of his throat. “Okay.” His bare hand reaches up, thumb brushing behind Jason’s ear. “But if you need me to stop, you tell me, all right? It doesn’t matter what the reason is, I’ll stop.”

He nods at first, but then when Dick doesn’t move to do anything realises that he’s waiting for a verbal reply. Something he’s always keen on obtaining from Jason anytime they have sex. “Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll tell you.”

Dick smiles at him, stroking the pad of his thumb over his scent gland again to see him shiver. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Slow is good.” Jason agrees, barely thinking straight at the touch. His knees feel weak, and he moans softly when Dick kisses him after.

Together, they work on disentangling the blankets around them and shedding the rest of their clothes. Dick’s uniform is still caught below his shoulders, giving him the appearance of wearing a backless, off the shoulder dress. Simultaneously ridiculous and alluring. Jason has to climb off of him so that he can sit up and push the rest down his chest, then further still so that he can actually peel the suit from his legs.

At any other time, and with any other clothing, Jason would be tempted to help (preferably using his teeth), but with this he simply watches. Enjoying the reveal of Dick’s scarred golden skin with the same avidness that one would watch a striptease at a burlesque show - not that any stripper could ever hold a candle to Dick, who makes even the simplest action a performance without even trying.

His boyfriend grins when he notices this, even winking to add to the effect before beckoning Jason back towards him again. “Underwear off, little wing.” Dick says before kissing him, hooking his thumbs into his boxers and starting to slide them down Jason’s hips for him. “Let me see all of you.”

Being naked in front of Dick now isn’t the embarrassment it was the first time, but Jason still shivers when it happens, even though there’s nothing but pure love and want in Dick’s gaze.

“Still okay?”

“Won’t be if you don’t hurry up and start doing something.” Jason growls as Dick laughs, pulling him back into his lap. He’s glad, because as much as he wants this, he doesn’t think he wants to be _under_ Dick for it the first time. He wants - needs - to feel in control, and being on top helps with that. It has since the beginning.

Before he wasn’t in control, but this time… this time Jason is sure that everything going on here is all his own clear-headed choice.

“Shh, I told you. We’re taking it slow.” Dick kisses his neck, wetting his tongue against the front of his throat before setting his teeth to where Jason’s shoulder begins. But he doesn’t immediately bite down the way Jason expects him too. Instead, he suckles, taking his time working the bruise into his skin while his hands rub warm circles into his thighs.

Jason gasps, his head tilting back at the feeling. He’s already wet when one of those hands slips between his legs, ignoring his cock in favour of running a finger across the cleft of his entrance. Dick teases him there, long enough that Jason’s ready to snap at him again when two press between the folds of flesh and into him at once.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he hisses at the feeling, hands flying to Dick’s shoulders and hips jerking as he tries to roll his hips and fuck himself on them. “Fuck, Dick!”

“That’s it.” Dick purrs, a true rumble in the back of his throat. “That’s it, Jay. God, you look so good just like this. Just on my fingers. Feel so good around them… keep thinking what it’s going to be like when I’m inside you...”

Jason moans as Dick’s other hand wraps around his cock and starts to stroke him. Under him, the bulge of Dick’s erection is more than noticeable against his ass. Every time Jason grinds himself down on the digits inside him, he pushes on that as well, making Dick gasp in turn.

“... need you to come, okay? Need you to come like this for me first. Just like this before I take you. I want to feel it on my fingers again before I feel you on my cock.”

The words do something to the back of Jason’s brain; kicking to life some base need. He whines instead of moans this time, driving himself down harder onto Dick’s hand and only stuttering in his rhythm when a third finger slips inside his channel. “Dick-”

“It’s okay, Jay. I’ve got you. Let go for me, little wing.”

He kisses him, catches his lips when Jason gasps and bows his head down low. Their teeth clack together with the clumsy need of it. When Dick curls his fingers inside him just enough to drag at the walls of his cunt, Jason stifles a cry into his mouth; his body gushing slick like he’s in the early stages of heat as he comes, shooting off into Dick’s other hand at the same time.

Dick moans in turn at the feeling, still hard and wanting underneath him, but patient as he waits for Jason to get his breath back. It takes almost five minutes before he ventures to ask, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” he mumbles, face now pressed to Dick’s shoulder. His fingers are still in him, still moving in shallow thrusts inside Jason’s cunt and easing him through the last waves of his orgasm. “Fuck, Dick. When you say shit like that...”

“You bring it out in me.” Dick smirks against his temple, like it isn’t his own fault he has a filthy mouth.

Outside of sex, he might be all about ‘courtship’ and ‘making love’, but when it came down to the actual act, Dick is as dirty as they come - exactly as Jason would expect from someone who had their sexual awakening at the hands of a six-foot four alien princess with no concept of human boundaries. Erotic doesn’t even begin to cover some of the sentences he’d come out with when they were in bed together. What he just said was practically tame compared to the worst of it.

At least if Bruce ever decides to stop supporting him financially, Jason figures he’ll still be able to make a living by recording the shit Dick says and publishing it on the adult fiction section of Amazon.

“I really don’t think you need my help with that somehow.” He turns his head and nuzzles in deeper against Dick’s neck. His tongue laps out, tasting Dick’s skin, dappled with sweat. Dick purrs in response, sticky fingers moving from Jason’s cock to his hip as he leans his head back to give him better access.

“Every artist needs a muse.”

Jason snorts, before nipping the side of Dick’s throat with his teeth. He rolls his hips again, testing the way it feels. The still raw stimulation to his nerves makes the friction almost unbearable, so good that it borders on pain. He could come like this again easily, could keep coming like this and never need anything more. He knows he can, they’ve tested it before; Dick’s driven him wild with it. But this time…

“If you think you’re an artist, then you - ah - really are delusional.” He bites again, harder than before to hear Dick’s subsequent gasp. Jason lifts his head after, turning so that his mouth is against the circumference of Dick’s ear. “Dick…”

“Yeah.” Dick swallows audibly. “Shit. You, uh… condoms?”

It’s tempting to tell him not to bother, what with the implant and suppressants working in tandem on Jason’s body already. He’s high on Dick’s presence and post-orgasmic bliss, but Roy’s voice is a loud and sensible echo in his ear. More trustworthy than his own mind, that’s for damn sure.

“Bedside drawer.”

Dick laughs, high-pitched and strained as his fingers squeeze Jason’s hip. “You really have thought about this, haven’t you?”

Jason pulls back to look at him, “Don’t think either of us need that kind of surprise in our lives.” he says quietly, watching the way Dick’s gaze softens, turning warm and tender under the glaze of lust.

His fingers draw out of him. Jason bites his lip against the familiar empty feeling. The betrayed protest his body makes as his passage continues trying to grip at the phantom presence of fingers inside it. He tries to remain still, acknowledging that discomfort is only temporary as Dick leans over, wresting open the drawer and then rummaging inside before he pulls out the package.

Dick’s lips quirk when he sees the label. A brand and type he’s familiar with. “You’ve been talking to Roy too, I see.”

“He has no filter, what do you expect?” Jason can’t quite meet his eyes as he blushes. A moment later, Dick’s - distractingly wet - finger catches his chin and turn his face back towards him. The kiss is soft, holding him in place through the sounds of the box being opened and one of the plastic-wrappers inside being pulled out.

“Know how this works?” Dick says against his lips, drawing back just enough so that they can talk.

“I’m not a virgin, Dick.” Jason reminds him pointedly, which in retrospect might not have been a good move.

Dick’s eyes darken, a flash of something animal and possessive there and gone again. The sight of it makes Jason’s heart thump quicker in his chest, and he’s a little disgusted with himself for how it actually turns him on more than it makes him indignant.

He’s no one’s possession, that’s the entire point. Yet at the same time, he’s always wanted to belong. His own contrariness with himself is something Jason has never been able to get used to.

It’s no wonder that, more than two years on from the initial session, he’s still seeing his therapist. Life would be so much easier if he didn’t have to continually fight every damn demon inside his head for wanting something that seemed to come so naturally to everyone else.

“I know.” Dick says quietly, that taut ready feeling back in his body. He looks hungry, predatory, at war with himself for a moment before he shakes his head. He’s always been better at fighting off his personal issues than Jason has, or at least better at hiding them. “I just…”

“I know.” Jason gives in and kisses him, anything to get that look off his face. “And I appreciate it, but I swear to God, Dick, if you don’t hurry up with this soon, I will lose my damn mind. Been wanting this since I was fourteen, remember?”

The distraction works. When he pulls back Dick is smiling again, handsome face lit with happiness at Jason’s declaration. “As if I could ever forget that.” Ever since he’d first let the information slip, Dick has hung onto it like a dog with a bone. Gleeful with what it meant.

More alpha possessiveness, Jason’s sure. But this display he doesn’t mind so much.

As he watches, Dick lifts the condom wrapper to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. The condoms are the kind that come ready-lubricated, and Jason swallows as a drop drips down Dick’s chin. He leans forward, smirking as he grabs Jason’s hand and presses the condom into the palm of his hand before “Put it on me, little wing?” is said breathily against his lips.

“Yeah.” He manages, accepting the gesture for what it is. Showing that the reins of this encounter are in his hands now, not Dick’s. “Yeah, okay.”

Jason moves back down Dick’s legs, swallowing as he lifts his hips and removes his underwear finally. Seeing Dick’s cock makes his own inch closer towards getting hard again, and the taunting empty feeling between his legs worsens even as he reaches over, left hand grasping the length and lazily stroking it a few times before he moves to roll the condom down from head to base with the right.

Vividly, he remembers the first time he’d tried giving Dick a blowjob, only two weeks ago. The sounds Dick had made then, the taste and weight of him in his mouth, as well as his hands in his hair, had been almost more than Jason could bear. It was almost like this, in a manner of speaking. New and exciting with the prospect of what it was leading to.

Dick doesn’t say anything, or move to guide him. But then again none of this is rocket science; Jason would have to be pretty damn stupid to get it wrong. Only after he’s done does Dick reach forwards, taking Jason’s hands in his and bringing him forwards until he’s kneeling over him once more. But rather than move to penetrate him, Dick simply lets the length of his cock press up against his own; allowing Jason to feel every inch of it that way first.

He’s sweating he realises. His hands tremble a little as he moves to rest them on Dick’s shoulders again. Whether because of anticipation, nerves, or some queasy mix of both, Jason’s not quite sure.

“You’re in control. Jay.” Dick reminds him. His midnight blue eyes are open, a window to the soul darkened with love and lust, as well as something so intense at their core Jason can’t even begin to identify it. “You’re always in control.” One hand settles on his hip while he reaches up with the other to brush his thumb over his lips. “So tell me what you want.”

This, he realises, is it. The moment; the last chance to back out. Dick would let him too, without qualm or complaint. Even if Jason told him to leave the apartment completely and never come back, he’d go.

And that knowledge, that certainty that Dick will always listen to him and do what he says, is precisely why Jason doesn’t.

“You.” he mutters at first, then louder, putting force and confidence into the words, “I want you.”

“You’ve got me.” Dick assures him, leaning forwards and pressing their mouths together, “Always.”

Jason nods. He keeps the kiss going. Steals Dick’s mouth for himself, possessive in his own right as he reaches his hand down and takes hold of his cock, stroking it once before he sits up and guides it between his legs.

The first inkling of pressure is almost too much, noticeable thicker than Dick’s fingers or tongue has ever been. He’s not high with heat, not like before; he feels the entirety of that girth as it breaches him, as his body stretches to accommodate the slide inch by inch. As one, both he and Dick gasp, then Jason whines as Dick moans, fighting to keep the pace slow as he continues lowering himself down until he’s fully seated on Dick’s lap.

He almost baulks at the feeling inside him. Too thick, too deep. He can feel that hardness all the way through his body. Jason bows his head, closes his eyes, _wills_ himself to simply breathe and relax. It’s almost too much without the blissful coating of heat, yet at the same time…

At the same time, it feels amazing. Incredible. Like his body’s been lit on fire. Every tiny shift of his hips sets flames licking up his spine. Every ache, every feeling of empty want that his body has tormented him with the last few week is at once silenced.

Judging by the low growl Dick makes as his fingertips tighten and dig into his waist, he’s not alone in that feeling.

“Jay.” Dick hisses against his mouth. Their foreheads press together. “Jay. God. _Jay_.”

With effort, Jason opens his eyes again. When he looks into Dick’s, they’re almost completely black with want.

“Are you -” Dick starts to ask, but before he can finish Jason cuts him off with a kiss.

“Fine.” he says shakily, but honestly. “I’m…” Jason swallows, feeling the smile curve his lips. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Dick doesn’t push him further. He doesn’t have to. Jason takes the initiative to move of his own accord. Bracing his hands against Dick’s shoulders to lift himself up and then roll his hips back down. The motion is incredible, the drag of the cock inside him indescribable. Dick’s hands steady him but that’s all; it’s Jason who sets the pace. Jason who controls everything. Slow at first, savouring every moment, then steadily quicker as the need for release starts to overpower any other feeling.

He was afraid when they did this that he’d be hit by memories. Plagued by the ghosts of the past. But it’s not like that at all. In this moment, there’s no shade of the one who came before: only the two of them; salted-caramel instead of spice. The rest of the world could sink into oblivion and he almost thinks he wouldn’t notice.

Sweat pours down his back, as the temperature in the room and between them becomes stifling. Hot like a sauna; the humid Indian jungle where an ex-SAS officer once taught Jason how to track anything through the bush and make a drink called Gunfire.

“So tight.” Dick pants against his neck, nails cutting into his skin as he helps him move. “God, Jay, you’re so - _fuck_.” For once, Dick is the one who sounds wrecked, lost beneath Jason. It thrills him more than words can say. “I want…”

“What?” Jason manages to say, slowing the motions of his hips down and almost laughing when Dick growls in frustration, “What do you want, Dick?”

“Want to come in you,” Dick moans. His nails rake down onto Jason’s thighs, leaving red scratch marks in their wake. “Want to… oh fuck… knot you. Want to… _fuck_. Please, Jason!”

“Shh!” Jason hushes him quickly, not quite so far gone as to completely forget the little monster sleeping across the hall. “Shh. I know. Fuck, I know.” He licks his lips, “I know. Me too. T-touch me, okay?”

Dick nods, and with that he starts to move faster, undulating his hips with a steady rhythm that now feels beaten into muscle memory. Dick’s hard calloused palm encircles his cock again, and - not entirely unexpectedly - Jason feels his teeth sink into his neck, biting down and holding him over the bruise he left there earlier.

That edge of pain is the final ingredient Jason needs to push him over the edge for a second time.

He claps his hand over his mouth to stifle his cry, squeezing his eyes shut as his body bears down, so slick that the glide of Dick’s cock in and out of him feels almost effortless, until he can’t summon the concentration or will to move anymore. Jason shudders through his second orgasm, while Dick bucks into him, seeking the final friction he needs to come as well.

When he does, when his knot starts to swell and fill, locking in against the constraints of Jason’s cunt, he almost cries out again. Thought goes out the window, staggered by the rush of endorphins as his body and mind respond to both the feeling and the pheromones Dick is releasing into the air around them; the harder clench of his teeth against his neck.

Instinctively, Jason goes still. Relaxes. Sinking forwards against Dick until his face is pressed against his shoulder while keeping the side of his throat bare to his teeth. Everything outside of him has grown hazy and unfocused.

Eventually Dick releases the grip, replacing the rough edge of his growl with a soothing purr and gentle swipes of his tongue. Jason shivers as his arms loop around his back. Rubbing calming circles into his skin.

It’s at least ten minutes before either of them can find it in themselves to speak again.

“Jay?”

“Mm.”

“I’m going to try and lie us down. Is that okay?”

Jason blinks blearily. Slowly, he raises his head from Dick’s shoulder. He’s riding so high that even the soreness of the bite on his neck registers as pleasure. Dick himself is a mess, hair askew and lips bruised from rough kisses. He’s also smiling, brimming with happiness as he lifts one of his hands and starts running it through Jason’s hair.

“What… what was the question again?”

Dick chuckles. “I said, I’m going to try and lay us down, on our sides.” he says, “We’ve probably got at least another ten minutes of being tied ahead of us. It might be more comfortable for you if we lie down in that time.”

Jason shakes his head. He doesn’t want to move. Doesn’t want to do anything but stay here and continue basking in this feeling. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

He bows his head back down, pushing his face back in against Dick’s neck, and Dick doesn’t stop him. He presses a kiss in against Jason’s temple instead. “Okay, little wing. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jason barely hears him, already drifting again. He feels like he could go to sleep like this. Almost does, but then - around fifteen minutes later - the satisfying fullness inside him starts to relax, and he whines a little at the loss. With that loss however, returns clarity, and Jason groans as Dick rolls them over before slipping out of him.

“Fuck…” he hisses, drawing his legs together. Sharp, shooting pains hit his thighs and joints as the muscles there protest at being kept in the same position too long after such strain. “God, fuck…”

“Yeah. That’ll happen.” Dick says, reappearing in his field of vision after doing… Jason guesses disposing of the condom, and taking him back into his arms. He holds Jason close, eyes alert and attentive as he looks into his face and down his body, grimacing a little when he realises how hard he bit him. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Just… fuck, my legs.”

“I did try to-”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

Dick ducks his head apologetically, mostly to try and hide the grin that threatens to spread across his face. He fails, but Jason doesn’t have the energy to scold him for it. Mostly he wants to just lie here for a good long while with Dick holding him. Then he wants a shower. Then…

Then he maybe wants to do it again. Trying a different position this time.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

He shivers when Dick kisses him, radiating satisfaction. His boyfriend. His partner. His… “That was a really good surprise.”

 _His_ , Jason thinks with disturbing fondness, more content that he ever thought he’d be.

“I thought you might say that.”

 

*

 

The bone deep sleep of the righteous is disturbed that next morning by the heavy thud of a small body impacting against the bedroom door.

Dick startles awake, reaching automatically for the escrima at his back and blinking when all he finds is bare skin in their place. Then he hears Jason groan in front of him, and the entirety of the previous night comes flooding back to him.

It’s a very pleasant memory to drown in.

Or at least it would be, if there wasn’t another one of those loud thuds at the door.

“It’s Damian,” Jason mumbles, right before a muffled cry of ‘Mommy!’ confirms his hypothesis. “You locked the door.”

“It’s a good thing I did,” Dick points out, “Considering we’re both _very_ naked in here.”

He can’t help grinning at the fact. Or resist slipping his hand further down from where it had been resting on Jason’s stomach to emphasise the point, even if the end result is that it gets slapped away. Last night had been… well, everything Dick had ever imagined being with Jason could be. Two more empty condom wrappers beside the bed attest to that.

He bends his head down, running kisses over Jason’s neck, down to lick over the bruise he’d left on the base of his neck. With that only had Dick been rougher than he’d meant to be. Jason may even scold him for it later, but for now he’s lazy and soft in the morning, befuddled by the aftereffects of too much activity and not enough sleep. Shivering with Dick’s gentle show of affection.

With a little more time, he might even be interested in a round four, but another solid thump at the door soon puts any notion of that happening to rest.

“Want me to get him?” Dick asks, stifling a giggle against Jason’s neck.

Jason grunts. “Might be an idea. Before he breaks the door down. Clothes first, though.”

“Clothes first.” Dick agrees, laying another kiss on Jason’s neck before reluctantly letting go of him and climbing out of the bed.

With practiced efficiency he runs around the room, kicking any evidence of adult activities out of sight. The scattered pieces of his Nightwing uniform and weaponry are hidden under the bed, while the box of condoms is shut neatly back inside the bedside drawer they lived in before last night. Then Dick crosses to Jason’s dresser, picking out clothes for both of them from there rather than having to rifle through the duffle bag of his own clothing he brought in with him last night. The pants are inches too long for his legs, and they hang low on his slim hips, but that doesn’t matter: Jason’s shirt on him is more than big enough to hide all signs of sin from sight.

Which for Dick, are mostly the scratch marks Jason clawed into his back the second time they’d made love last night. He can feel them with every flex and bend of his spine; badges of honour, he thinks mischievously.

He drops Jason’s clothes next to him on the bed, where his lover has barely made an effort to move. Jason pulls the blanket higher over his head before dragging the shirt and pants under with him.

That’s fair, Dick supposes. He rather did wear him out last night.

Finally, after another thump against the door and indignant cry of “Mommy!”, he goes to let Damian inside the room.

Damian totters on his feet when the door swing opens, blinking into the dim confines of the bedroom. He looks up and gapes at Dick’s presence, brow wrinkling in confusion at finding him standing there instead of Jason. “Whoa there, little D. Where’s the fire?”

Most of the time, Damian seems to accept his new role in the lives of him and his mother. But the adjustment hasn’t been without its bumps in the road, and the stern talk Jason had given him about that always sits heavy in the back of Dick’s mind. He hopes this won’t be one of the times he has to enforce his right to be here with Damian.

Fortunately, the soon to be four-year old seems to have greater things on his mind.

“No fire.” he says, wrinkling his nose at the smell in the room before peering past Dick’s legs. “Mommy, present!”

“What?” Dick says, confused.

From the bed comes Jason’s tired grumble. “Your birthday’s not till tomorrow, Dami. No presents today.”

But Damian is not to be deterred, as he dashes past Dick to the bedside, trying to reach for Jason’s hand under the comforter so he can tug him out. “No. Present today. I saw it.”

“Where did you see it?” Dick asks, amused as he ambles after him. Judging by the changing shape of the blanket mound covering Jason, he’s still in the middle of getting dressed.

“On my window.”

Both adults freeze at those innocently spoken words. Then Jason’s head appears, popping out of the bed with his mussed curls flying in every direction. “What?” He croaks, unable to hide his sudden alarm completely.

Damian points back at the open door to the hallway impatiently. “On my window. Can’t reach it. You get it for me, Mommy.”

Jason looks up at him, eyes wide as the colour steadily drains from his face, “Dick…”

“I’m on it.”

It might be nothing. Just Damian’s wild imagination, but somehow Dick doesn’t think so. He strides for the door, bare feet sinking into the carpet as he crosses the hall and then hops the child gate Damian himself had clambered over to get out of his bedroom.

Behind him, he hears Damian’s angry squawk of protest. Probably from Jason grabbing him so he can’t run back to the room himself.

Scattered toys impede his progress through Damian’s room, and Dick hisses as he stands on at least two plastic animals in his haste to reach the window, which Damian’s bed with its brightly coloured sheets is set directly next to. Once there, he can’t stop the growl from rising in his throat, or the hairs from raising up on the back of his neck and arms.

On the ledge outside Damian’s window is a box, immaculately wrapped in green paper and gold trimming. It’s beautiful, innocuous in its presence, and certainly a tempting proposition to a young boy hyped up on the prospect of his soon-to-be birthday. Dick would almost be tempted to believe it was a gift from another of his aunts and uncles, for whom window ledge communication was a way of life, if not for one important detail.

The verdant shade of the wrapping is identical to the proud family colours of the al Ghul’s.

He looks back at the bedroom door, where Jason is now stood, pale in the weak dawn light as he hangs tightly onto the arm of his still struggling son. Damian snaps and snarls, unaware of the cold atmosphere now settling over the room from both adults.

“I’ll call Bruce.” Dick says, trying to be reassuring. “Maybe one of us left it.”

It’s obvious that Jason doesn’t believe him. In his place, Dick wouldn’t either. “Sure.” he says, eyes dropping to the floor. “One of us.” The lingering perfume of sex is already being overwritten by the sharper stench of suppressed anger and fear, turning Dick’s stomach over inside him. Jason doesn’t say anything else before he pulls Damian along with him towards the kitchen and living room, every good feeling from last night visibly draining out of him like water from a cracked vase.

Dick clenches his fists. If this is what he thinks it is, then he and Talia are going to be exchanging some very stern words with each other very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers who were suspicious that I was letting Jason be too happy in this universe: you were right, I was. You all have some excellent instincts XD


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is Sunday, right? Totally still Sunday. 
> 
> Lots of complicated alpha/omega behaviours ahead in this one. I must say, I quite enjoyed writing them out XD

The day goes south quickly after that, hurtling towards the pole as if drawn under the inexorable pull of a magnet.

Dick returns to Jason’s bedroom where he left his communicator and places the call to Bruce, whose initial irritation at being woken up so early quickly vanishes in light of the news. He promises to be there within the hour - as Batman - to collect the package from outside Damian’s window, which leaves Dick with the arguably more difficult task of ushering Jason and Damian up to the manor itself.

There’s no question of them staying here in Jason’s apartment, not anymore. Even if Bruce didn’t want them up at the manor, one glance at Jason’s face tells Dick that he won’t stand for lingering here himself any longer than he has to.

The sanctity of his den has been violated; the safety of his pup compromised. For any omega that would be a hard pill to swallow.

For Jason, it’s almost catastrophic.

Dick does his best to help in the rush of activity that follows, though realistically there’s very little he can do as Jason deals with a tantrum-throwing Damian - still demanding his present and even going so far as to snarl at his mother until Jason is forced to resort to pinning him down and baring his teeth back in warning, at which point Damian finally goes quiet and obedient (if exceptionally sullen). Getting themselves dressed and organised is easier after that, and Dick quickly gathers all the pieces of his Nightwing uniform and gear out from under Jason’s bed to take with him before they head down to the car together.

He drives, while in the passenger seat next to him Jason sits with his arms folded, radiating hot anger and sickly fear over the lingering scent of sex between them. Dick keeps sneaking glances over at him, and at Damian sulking in the back seat, taking his eyes off the road for brief snatches of time as they make their way over the Robinson bridge to the mainland before following the coastal road north to reach Wayne Manor; a much easier route than trying to drive up through the complicated network of roads within the city would be.

When they hit a red light only ten minutes away from their destination, he takes the opportunity to reach over and cover one of Jason’s clenched hands with his own for a moment. “Hey,” he murmurs, “it’s going to be okay. We’ll fix this, whatever it is. We’ve all got your back here, Jay. You know that, right?”

Jason doesn’t reply, or even really react in any way except to tense up further, and when the light turns green Dick is forced to take his hand away and refocus on driving; trying to ignore the growing knot of anger currently hardening itself into a protective shell around his chest.

He wants to stop the car. Wants to keep driving. Wants to take Jason into his arms so that he can hold him and pin him down with his weight and scent; wants to steal him away somewhere secure - to Bludhaven and his own den - where they can make love as many times as necessary for him to feel safe again. Somewhere where it’s just them and Damian, with no danger of any outsiders trying to intrude on their lives.

Only two hours ago, in what feels like a dream now, they’d been happy. Jason had been soft and warm and content. And now…

Now he’s like a storm brewing, or maybe something worse than that; gunpowder in the sand. A steady trail leading back to a pile of carefully hoarded dynamite, awaiting only a single spark of pressure to set it off.

Dick’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel as the gates of the manor swing open to them and they begin the five minute drive up to the house itself. Jason is giving him a dubious look out of the corner of his eye, while behind them Damian has withdrawn even more into himself; silent as he stares down at his toes in their little Batman sneakers and clutches Daw between his hands.

It’s enough to remind Dick to breathe; that he - out of all them - needs to stay the most calm about this. To be Jason’s rock in the face of his old nightmares rearing up to haunt him once again.

Which is a great attitude to have in theory; harder though, to employ in reality. Especially once Jason has finished settling Damian into Alfred’s care so that they can go down into the cave and talk to Bruce together.

“I can’t believe her!” he shouts when they’re standing next to the examination table in the laboratory. “How dare she, how fucking dare she do this!”

“Jason—”

“Is she crazy? Has she actually gone cuckoo fucking bananas, finally? I mean, I… a dagger, seriously? Who gives a four-year old a fucking dagger!”

Assassins, apparently. A group for whom the words ‘health’ and ‘safety’ are foreign concepts.

Dick clenches his jaw as he looks down at the gift box and what was revealed to be inside it. After subjecting the package to every kind of scan known to man, Bruce had finally deemed it free of any explosive or poison and therefore safe to open. Now Dick almost wishes he hadn’t, as Jason starts to pace frantically back and forth across the confined metal platform; voice rising high enough into the cave’s shadowy ceiling to disturb the roosting bat colony above them.

“Well, she’s done it this time. Made the biggest mistake of her entire life! And when I get my hands on her she’s going to regret thinking she ever had any right to be near my son.”

He steps forwards, attempting to put himself in Jason’s path while Bruce watches. Dick pulls a soothing croon from his throat as reaches for his boyfriend’s arms, “Jay, it’s all right.”

“It is _not_ all right, Dick!” Jason swerves around him, avoiding the contact, and the burst of nervous scent he releases at the same time does nothing to ease the situation. “It’s not even remotely close to being all right.”

Dick’s stomach churns as his hands close on empty air. But that’s fine, he tells himself. It’s fine. He can get by on using his words instead if he has to. Talking is supposed to be one of his greatest strengths, after all. At least according to most of his friends.

“I know. I know it’s not.” He hastens to correct himself. “I meant that Damian’s all right. He’s fine, he didn’t even get his hands on the box, let alone what’s inside it.”

“And you think that makes it _better_?!”

Dick’s hands ache with the urge to try and grab him again. “Of course not.”

“Then why the fuck did you say it?” Jason snaps at him, before sagging downwards, drawing into himself with his arms folded in tight against his stomach. “Fuck, fuck. I should have known something like this was coming. She’s been quiet too long. It doesn’t matter what she said before, of course she wasn’t going to wait forever.”

“Jason,” Bruce tries now. Like Dick, he’s clearly struggling against his protective instincts towards Jason. He’s still wearing the suit, though he’d removed the cowl before they got down here, and there are dark circles beneath his eyes, as well as a raw red scrape across his jaw that must have been inflicted on him during patrol last night. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down, when she thinks she has the right to just waltz back into our lives and do something like this whenever she feels like it? You seriously expect me to—”

“Bruce is right,” Dick interjects hurriedly before Jason can start shouting again, “Just take a moment and breathe, okay?” He can’t read the signals his own body is sending out right now, but he hopes they’re good ones. He croons again softly in the back of his throat in another attempt to calm him. “We can fix this.”

“Fix it?” Jason says disbelievingly, refusing to let up for a moment. But at least he isn’t yelling. “How?”

“By making her understand that she’s made a mistake.” Bruce says, with deadly seriousness. The great weight of his body is listing entirely in Jason’s direction. “I already contacted my sources. According to them, Talia is still at the League headquarters in Nanda Parbat.”

Jason snorts, “Oh _great_. So she couldn’t even come and invade my life again herself, she had to send an _underling_ to do it. Well that’s fine. She could be on Mars for all I care, I’m still going to track her down and kick her ass for this.” He’s back to pacing again, every footfall bumping Dick’s nerves up another notch towards breaking point. “She needs to understand, okay? I don’t want her in Damian’s life. That means no letters, no cards, and definitely no goddamn _ninjas_ delivering gifts outside my son’s bedroom window in the middle of the night. Fuck, fuck fuck! I knew… I knew it was…”

Jason’s hands pull back at his hair, and Dick doesn’t even realise what he’s doing before he’s in front of him again suddenly, reaching out once more. This time his hands succeed in closing around Jason’s wrists, the touch one that’s meant to calm and sooth - except in this case it has the opposite effect.

“Don’t touch me, Dick!” Jason flinches away from him, wide-eyed and nostrils flaring. His chest heaves with stress. “Don’t…” He meets his eyes, for a moment almost regretful before he’s clenching his jaw again. “Just don’t.”

Dick lets go of him like he’s been burnt. Holding up his hands in front of his chest to show he means no harm. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just... I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help! What I _need_ is to go punch Talia in her stupid smug face.”

It’s been so long since he last saw Jason acting like this - furtive and uncomfortable, lashing out at every turn - that he’s almost forgotten how to deal with it. Dick flashes back to the memory of that first claustrophobic month they spent locked in the manor together, waiting for news to come from Bruce and Tim that Damian had been found; how difficult it had been then to work around the edges of Jason’s distrust and paranoia. He’s come such a long way since that time, and it’s distressing now to watch him revert back to that harmful behaviour so easily.

It shouldn’t be this way. After the last couple months - after last night, Dick was hoping that this wouldn’t happen.That their bond would be strong enough that Jason would allow him to comfort him when he needs it the most.

 _Protect_ and _provide_ are an alpha’s strongest instincts, especially when confronted by a stressed omega, and both are failing at their jobs right now.

“Let me handle that.”

They both look sharply at Bruce, who meets their combined gaze with dour seriousness.

Jason immediately draws breath to argue, but Bruce cuts him off before he can begin.

“Leaving Damian may be what she wants you to do. So let me handle Talia. You’ll both be safer if you stay here in the manor while I’m gone.”

“If she was going to try and take him, she would’ve just done it instead of leaving a gift on his window. And she’d be here herself, rather than in the middle of fuck-nowhere.” Jason bristles. “She’s just trying to mess with me and I’m not going to stand for it.”

“We can’t risk that.”

“That, or me? Come on, Bruce. That’s what you’re really saying isn’t it? You just don’t want _me_ to go. Because what, you think I can’t hack it? You think I’ll lose control?” His lips curl back into a snarl, “Come on, old man, which one is it?”

Dick can see Bruce shifting his weight, readying himself for a fight of his own. The same urge is within his own chest, to snap and snarl back at Jason; to _make_ him understand that this is the best course of action if need be.

“That’s not it at all, little wing. We know you’re capable.” He tries to intercede before it can go that far. “We just want what’s best for you _and_ Damian. It’ll take hours—the better part of a day even to get from here to Nanda Parbat and back.”

He doesn’t say anymore than that, he doesn’t have to. Whether Jason had been too angry to consider that information earlier or not, Dick can see him thinking about it now. The conflict spreading across his face as he’s torn between his urge to personally go and warn Talia away from his family versus his need to stay with Damian and make sure he remains safe.

Dick can also see that he’s hurt him by pointing it out.

Jason breathes in sharply before straightening his back. His arms are wrapped around his stomach again, which is a subconscious omega defense pose. Not one that the Jason of six years ago would have used probably, but now it seemed to come naturally to him.

“... fine.” He spits out, like the word is a poisoned bullet. “Fine, I’ll stay. But only because Damian needs me, not because of any bullshit alpha reasoning the pair of you may have.”

Dick takes care not to show any outwards sign of relief. “Don’t worry, Jason. I promise we’ll take care of it for you.”

“We?” Bruce echoes from behind him.

“Yeah. We.” He replies. “I’m coming with you.”

If Jason can’t go himself, then Dick will do it for him. He’ll make sure his family - his pack, is safe, however he has to. He’s aching with it, the urge to defend; to prove himself worthy, egged on by Jason’s refusal to let Dick comfort him. Maybe his own anger isn’t as explosively visible as Jason’s is, but it’s there.

Jason snorts harshly. He still looks hurt, the air around him perfumed with unhappiness - overriding the scent Dick left on him last night, but now he also looks resigned, and more than that, deeply, deeply tired. “Whatever, go knock yourselves out. Just make sure she understands that if she or any of her underlings comes near Damian again, there’ll be no Lazarus Pit left on Earth that will be able to fix what I’ll do to her.”

He turns abruptly, heading for the stairs that lead to the central platform past the batmobile and up to the exit to the manor. Dick stands frozen where he is for a moment, then hurriedly starts to follow after him.

“Nightwing—”

“I’ll be back soon, Bruce. Don’t leave without me.”

At the pace Jason is moving, and with the extra length of his legs, it takes Dick a couple minutes to catch up to him, halfway up the stairs to the grandfather clock exit out of the cave. He reaches out again, fingers grazing the back of his boyfriend’s jacket, “Jason, wait.”

“What?!” he whirls round, so fast that it knocks Dick back down a step. “What do you want now, Dick?”

He holds up his hands, ducking his head down at the same time. _No harm_ he tries to communicate, backing it up with his words. “Nothing! Nothing, I just… I want to be sure you’re okay, Jason.”

“ _Okay_?” The stairway is lit by small blue bulbs underfoot, set into each individual step as a safety feature to stop any of them tripping downwards. Now that cold upswell of light paints Jason’s features eerily, until his eyes are nothing more than ember-like reflections in the dark. “Christ Dick, what do you think? Talia’s sticking her nose into my business again, and according to you and Bruce, I can’t even have the satisfaction of repaying her for it myself. So no, of course I’m not okay.”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek. It’s like he keeps putting his foot in his mouth with every step he takes. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” Jason replies, unimpressed.

Irritation digs its roots down through his chest. He’s trying to be understanding, but even Dick has his limits. “You do realise I’m on your side, right? I know you’re upset, but I’m not the enemy here, Jason. I’m trying to help, so it’d be nice if you could stop treating me like one.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away? It feels like every time I’ve tried to come near you this morning there’s been a wall between us.”

Jason freezes. His arms tighten, his jaw clenches. “I just… I don’t want you touching me right now, all right?”

“Why not?” Dick blunders on. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Jason. The opposite in fact. I want to make you feel better.”

“I know _exactly_ what you want, Dick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re trying to use alpha tricks to manipulate me into calming down, and I don’t want you to do that!”

“Jay, that’s not—”

“Yes it is, Dick! Do you think I’m stupid? I’m not blind, I can smell you. You’re radiating it out of every pore. And then you jump in on Bruce’s side about me staying here like I’m some helpless damsel in distress. It’s fucking obvious.” he clenches his jaw. “Yeah, I’m pissed off, and I’m upset, but I have a goddamn right to feel that way if I want to without you trying to forcibly calm me down.”

An acute sense of horror fills Dick’s heart. “You think… _Jay_. I’m not trying to manipulate you, not like that. You’re in distress, I’m trying to comfort you because I’m _worried_ about you. Because I… I hate seeing you like this, I hate seeing what _she_ can do to you just through one tiny action. And I want you to stay here, because I know _you_. I know as angry as you are right now, you don’t really want to leave Damian. And if that makes me an asshole, then fine! I’m an asshole. But I’m only being that way because… because...”

He cuts off, and they both look at each other through the darkness for a good long minute. Jason wary and defensive. Dick floundering on how the hell he’s supposed to fix this, while another part of him argues he has nothing to fix.

He can feel the words he wants to say stuck between his teeth, choking his throat. Three words, weighty and powerful, but not right. Not for this moment. This situation. He’s afraid Jason will take them the wrong way if he does, that he’ll think Dick is only saying them to get what he wants.

“... look, if you don’t want me to touch you until you’re ready, then I won’t. And I’m sorry I tried. But I’d never, _ever_ attempt to use those behaviours to force you to do something you don’t want to do, Jason. Never. You understand that, don’t you?”

Jason shivers at his words. Dick sees it, and knows it’s not just because of the temperature of the air down here. His voice is quieter, inching back towards something like calm as he hangs his head. “Yeah, Dick. I understand.”

“These pieces of who we are, alpha and omega, they’re meant to work together, not push us apart.” He says eventually, swallowing hard. “We’re meant to work together. Support each other when we need it. Like you did for me on Halloween.”

“ But I’m not like you. I don’t…” Jason shakes his head. “I’m just not like you, Dick. I don’t work the same way, I’m fucked up, I told you that at the beginning of this, and if you try and do that shit to me now… I can’t stand it, okay? I just can’t. I need to work through this on my own.”

“You are not fucked up.” Dick says automatically.

Jason scoffs away his denial, “Yeah, I am. And today just proves it. I’m supposed to be better than this now, but then one little thing happens and…”

“We can fix it. Just tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

“Space. I need…” Jason heaves in one deep breath after another. “I need space. Just for a little while, okay?”

The alpha in Dick doesn’t like it. Insisting that it’s not the proper way; that Jason will be much happier if he just lets him do what he wants to do: push him into a bed and blanket him with his body. But Dick has gotten good at learning to suppress that voice when he needs to over the years, and if it means he and Jason are able to keep what they’ve built together so far from breaking apart now, all the more so.

“Then you’ve got it. Look, I… I’m going to go with Bruce - be your and ears in that situation, as well as your fists and feet.” He attempts a smile, and though Jason doesn’t return it, he doesn’t argue either. “When I get back we’ll talk more about this, okay? Figure out our boundaries when it comes to these kinds of situations. And tomorrow I promise we’ll have a great day; you, me and Damian. We’ll celebrate his birthday properly, just the way you planned.”

He wants to reach up and take Jason’s hands. Wants to kiss him at least one more time before he leaves, and press his fingers to the bite mark he knows is hidden on the back of Jason’s neck under his jacket. But he promised Jason he wouldn’t touch him again until he invited it, so that’s what he’s going to do.

Even if it is figuratively killing him inside to hold back. At this point, going and punching some ninjas is going to be therapy more than anything else.

He starts to move back down the steps. Slowly, still hoping for Jason to change his mind - or even ask him to stay instead of leaving. He doesn’t, but he does say one more thing:

“Make her hurt, Dick.”

“I promise you, little wing, that won’t be a problem.”

 

*

 

Tim grimaces as he walks up the grand staircase of the house to the second floor, fighting the effects of gravity on his sore calf muscles with every step. Talk about a day going to hell out of nowhere.

It felt like he had barely been asleep for five minutes before Bruce woke him up with the news of what had happened as Jason’s apartment this morning, then sent both him and Cass out into the city to coordinate with Oracle in the search to try and track down the courier Talia had used to deliver Damian’s gift. Operating on next to no sleep and with few clues to go on, they’d had little luck in picking up any trail - at least so far. The motion sensors on the window ledge that should have been triggered when the intruder landed outside had captured nothing, which either meant they’d used some hefty tech to interfere with the systems, or worse, that they were dealing with a metahuman whose powers somehow enabled them to bypass every security measure they had.

Cass is still out there looking, but Tim had been called home again by Bruce only an hour ago. With both of their pack’s alphas heading off to go and interrogate Talia for answers, he’d wanted at least one of them staying in the house with Jason and Damian at all times as back-up; just in case the League was intending on making any further attempt to invade their lives.

It was smart, it was sensible. But it’s also a situation which Tim isn’t entirely sure he’s the best choice to handle, and he couldn’t help wishing that he was still off working with Cassandra or in Dick’s place now instead. The fact that his older brother had chosen to bolt off with Bruce to Nanda Parbat had more than a whiff of alpha bravado about it, though Tim’s certain Dick would deny that assessment if ever asked. As would Bruce, come to think about it.

So often, Tim is glad that he was born a beta, rather an alpha or omega. He doesn’t like to buy into stereotypes, none of them do, but there are certain situations - like this one - where the controlling influence of instinct was unmistakable.

Finding Alfred and a strangely subdued Damian had been easy enough once he finished changing out of costume for the second time that day. They were in the kitchen, baking, but of Jason there’d been no sign. A fact Alfred pointedly alluded to before Tim even had the chance to finish drinking a much needed cup of coffee, while Damian focused on pushing multicoloured sprinkles around the surface of the table instead of placing them onto the cupcakes he was supposed to be decorating .

So at his behest, Tim had dutifully, exhaustedly, gotten up to go search for his errant packmate. Starting in the most likely locations on the ground floor (the library) and then steadily working his way upwards through the house.

Jason isn’t in his bedroom, old or new. Nor is he in Dick’s, which is when Tim does admit to himself that he’s starting to worry. He doesn’t want to think that Jason could have chosen to run out on them to chase Talia’s forces himself - none of the equipment had been missing in the cave when he came in - but the longer he goes without finding him, the more he finds himself considering it a possibility.

At least until he has a brainwave and decides to look even higher up in the house.

The attic door squeaks on its hinges when he opens it, despite Alfred’s best attempts to keep them well oiled. Tim expects that it’s some kind of rule in great old houses that the attic door should squeak, that things should creak and groan from time to time like ageing joints, no matter how well cared for they were. Wayne Manor is no exception.

The first thing he sees when he steps inside the room is boxes. Piles upon on piles of boxes, wooden crates and cardboard both, filled with various antiques and mementoes from Wayne’s past. The overhead lights haven’t been switched on, but the grand arching windows positioned at intervals along the length of the roof would have provided just enough light to see by for anyone who might have come up here before him.

Tim sniffs the air, hoping to catch a hint of Jason’s scent. What he mostly gets is a noseful of dust, causing him to have a minor sneezing fit before he’s able to recover himself from it, but underneath that…

“Jason?”

Tim carefully shuts the door with another squeak behind him, before stepping forwards. There’s no reply, but he doesn’t let that stop him from wending his way through the towers of boxes from one end of the attic to the other. The center of the room is treacherously dark as the farthest point between the windows, but careful footwork - and a certain amount of familiarity with the gigantic roof space - sees him through the worse of it.

Jason is stood at the other side of the attic, his silhouette framed against the glass of the window there as distinctly as a cameo brooch worn on a wealthy omega’s chest. When Tim draws near, he turns his head to watch his approach, while Tim himself drops his eyes down, both as a respectful acknowledgement of his position in the pack order, and a means by which to conduct a covert study of Jason in turn, noting every single detail there is to be found; from the dark circles under his eyes, to the tense line of his shoulders and the bowed posture of his back; the empty twitching of his fingers next to his thigh.

The clear scent of his unhappiness in the air.

Not a good sign. Not good at all. Very bad, in fact.

“Hey.” Tim pauses, awkward now as to how to begin, “I, uh, Alfred sent me to find you. He and Damian were making cupcakes, but they’ve finished them now.” He licks his lips against the dry, dusty air. “What are you doing up here?”

“Nothing.” Comes the short reply, but it’s accompanied by another empty twitch of Jason’s fingers. “I just…” He sighs. “I needed some space to think.”

“In the attic?”

Jason gives him a defensive look. “Yes, Tim. In the attic. I used to come up here all the time as a kid, y’know. You got a problem with that?”

“No, of course not. I did too. I mean… sometimes I still do. When I need a quiet place to think. The same as you.” Tim confesses. He risks a smile. “When I first became Robin, I actually explored the whole house from top to bottom. I’d wanted to do it for years, and finally having permission was liberating.”

The defensiveness turns to surprise. “... yeah?”

“Yeah. I always used to think how cool it must be to live here. You and Bruce and Dick. So when I found the attic, I thought…” he can feel himself blushing, “I thought there must be a whole bunch of secrets locked up in here. I guess I went a little Hardy Boys about it in the end.”

“I always prefered Nancy Drew.”

“I know, I found all your copies in the library. You do realise you’re not actually supposed to write spoilers in the margins at the point you figure the mystery out, right?”

Jason’s eyes widen. “... fuck, I forgot I did that.”

“You forgot? You ruined like five books for me, you jerk.”

“Oh like you don’t figure out who the killer is from page one of every book you read, Velma.”

Tim smiles wider. He can see Jason starting to relax too, inch by inch. “I found your secret stash up here too. The one you used to keep under the loose floorboard you’re standing on.”

Jason’s looks down, the motion carrying a touch of guilt with it. Another aborted motion of his fingers.

“Stalker.” he grumbles.

“Were you up here looking for it?” Tim asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“Yeah.” Jason admits, with a defeated slump of his shoulder. “I know… I know it’s bad but… well, it doesn’t matter. Looks like something got to ‘em anyway. Rats or mice or... I don’t know. Somethin’.”

“Better not let Alfred hear you say the ‘R’ or ‘M’ word in this house. I think he’d go nuclear just at the notion.” Slowly, Tim walks closer and leans back against the windowsill next to Jason, though he makes sure to leave a healthy amount of space in between them still. “It’s okay, I get it. I won’t tell anyone.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Like I said, something got to them.”

Tim nods agreeably. “You want to talk about it?”

“About how I’m up here looking for a quick fix instead of being downstairs looking after my kid like a responsible adult? Fuck no, Tim. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He holds up his hands quickly. “Hey, no pressure, it’s just an offer. And like I said, I get it. You needed an outlet.” he quirks his lips, “I think we’ve all been known to do worse things in the name of dealing with stress in this family.”

Jason barks out a laugh at that, “Yeah, I guess so. My other usual outlet is punching guys, which was tempting to go and do as well but… I wasn’t sure which was the worst option, actually.”

“We could go down to the cave and spar later if you like?”

He’s given a measuring look, one that gradually eases itself into gratitude for the offer. Jason sighs as he rubs his face. “I may take you up on that. Though the way I’m feeling, the training dummies might be a healthier choice. For you, anyway.”

“Well in that case, I can print out a photo of Talia’s face from the Bat computer and stick it on each dummy’s head instead.”

This time Jason starts laughing for real. Hard and long enough that Tim actually starts to worry that he may never stop. By the time the last giggles are trailing off, he’s reaching up to wipe tears away from his eyes.

“Fuck I… thanks, Tim. I think I needed that.”

“I’m serious.” he smiles, inching closer, and Jason doesn’t move away. “I’ve done it with Captain Boomerang before.”

Jason coughs, almost laughing again. “Yeah.” he then says quietly, “I bet you have.”

Tim drums his fingers restlessly on his leg. That road is one better less travelled, even if he did bring up the subject himself.

He tries to think on what else to say next, but Jason beats him to the punch.

“I think I fucked up with Dick.”

Tim turns his head to look up at him, caught off guard, “What? How?”

“I…” Jason grimaces. “It doesn’t matter. I just did.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to just say something like that to me and then not elaborate. What happened?”

“He was trying to help and I just… I pushed him away. I was angry and upset and I… I fucked up, okay. Like I always do. Christ.”

“That’s not much information. What _exactly_ happened?”

Jason fidgets. For such a large man, he makes the movement remarkably small. “I told him I didn’t want him to touch me.”

“... okay. What’s the problem with that?”

Tim isn’t sure if he’s comfortable offering this sort of advice, and the urge is there to suggest Jason contact someone more qualified, like Roy or his therapist, but if he wants to open up to him, then Tim is determined to at least try.

“What’s the… he’s an alpha. He wanted to… you know, help. Like an alpha does. And I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want anyone near me then. Not him, not Bruce. Not anyone. And it hurt him, I could see it in his face.”

Tim chooses his next words carefully. “Jay. There was nothing wrong with you telling him that. The only thing that would be wrong is if Dick didn’t listen to you when you said it. He listened right?”

“... yes.”

“Look, I’m not going to tell you he wasn’t hurt by it. We both know what Dick is like. He’s touchy, he likes to be in contact with people. He reassures _himself_ that way, as much as others, and sometimes he doesn’t understand that not everyone else is the same way. But he’s a good guy, and he cares about you.” he dares to nudge his elbow into Jason’s waist. “You didn’t mess anything up by asking him to respect your boundaries, Jason.”

“I was an asshole about it though.”

Tim wants to reach up and shake him for a moment, but reminds himself to be calm and examine the situation from a distance instead. He knows this is Jason’s first relationship, and an intense one at that, built on years of suppressed longing. He also knows that he didn’t exactly have the greatest role models regarding how they should work growing up either; not like Dick, Bruce, or even he himself had with his parents.

To Jason, the idea of a relationship was firmly routed in the image of shouting, arguing. Violence and falling out at the drop of a hat. There was probably a part of him that had been watching and waiting, expecting something like this to happen between him and Dick from the very beginning.

“Then apologise to him when he gets back. But for being an asshole only, okay? Look, I know Dick, and you know Dick. He’s not going to freak out just because you asked him for some breathing space.” Though it might explain why Dick was gone rather than here. “All you need to do is talk it out with him and you’ll be fine.”

“You really think so?”

“With all my vast experience of exactly three relationships in my life, yeah, I do. Talk to him. Just… talk.”

Jason looks forwards, away from him and at a pile of boxes with old, yellowed (and frilly) looking shirts leaking out of them. Then he sighs. “Three relationships, huh. You’re embarrassing me with your raw animal magnetism here, Timmy.”

“I usually do.” He reflexively ducks the light punch Jason throws at his arm, but allows the headlock and the subsequent ruffling of his hair that follows. “Now, can we please go downstairs and sneak a cupcake each before dinner? Because I think we deserve it after today.”

For a moment, he thinks Jason is about to say no. That he’ll stay up and continue to brood instead, but his scent is warmer, finally; calmer. More like the maternal normality that Tim has come to associate with him in the years since he came back. He nods.

“Yeah, sure. The munchkin can even have one too.” Jason smiles a little sadly as he pushes away from the window to head for the door. “He is turning four tomorrow, after all.”

 

*

 

Across the Pacific, Dick tries and fails to resist the urge to spin his seat in the Batwing around anymore than already has. He’s restless, but after pacing through the confined space of the plane more times than he can count already, he firmly believes that Bruce might actually dump him into the waters below if he moves to do it again before they land.

They passed over Japan not long ago, and are only a couple minutes away from hitting the coast of mainland China. From there, as the Batwing flies, it should only be another two hours before they make their destination.

Thank God, because after long hours of silence with an uncommunicative Bruce, Dick has finally felt his anger waning and he’s - while not regretting his choice to come out here exactly - wishing he could be back home already. Longing to be with Jason and Damian. His pack, his _family,_ that greedy inner voice states, despite his attempts to suppress it.

The gift box with the dagger in it is carefully stowed in the back of the plane behind them; evidence, should they need it. Though Dick highly doubts Talia is going to be denying anything when they confront her. Why would she? Certainly, she won’t feel as if she’s done anything wrong by sending her son a present for his birthday. So far as she was concerned from her archaic upbringing, her rights regarding Damian supersede anyone else’s, including Jason’s.

Once upon a time, Dick did feel sorry for her in a way, even if he had never liked her from the first moment they met. He acknowledged that Ra’s couldn’t have been the easiest father to grow up with, especially when his desire for a perfect male alpha heir meant that Talia had never stood a chance of being good enough to please him. But on the other hand, everyone made their own choices in life sooner or later. choices for which only they were to blame.

Bored of spinning, Dick pulls out one of his escrima sticks from its holster and starts to flip it around in his hand as he struggles to keep his mind from wandering any further off track. Juggling would be going too far, but this—

“You don’t have to come in with me.” Bruce says disapprovingly to his right.

Dick almost fumbles the catch. Bruce has been stiff and silent for so long, it takes him completely off-guard. “What?”

“I said, you don’t have to come inside the base with me when we get there. You can wait in the plane while I talk to Talia.”

“… you’re joking right? You really think I’m going to come all this way and not go in there with you?”

“I’m concerned about your ability to control yourself.”

His mouth literally hangs open. “Are you serious? Bruce, if you were worried about that, you should never have let me get on the plane with you in the first place.”

“Your feelings for Jason compromise you.”

“And yours don’t? I know this can be a hard concept for you, but please try not to be a hypocrite. We’re both personally involved in what’s going on here.” His hand tightens around the escrima. “Even if Jason and I weren’t together right now, it wouldn’t change a damn thing. I’d still be doing this for him and Damian.”

He knows Bruce is glaring at him now from behind the cowl, but Dick doesn’t look away. Eventually, he’s granted a begrudging nod. “Duly noted.”

Dick goes back to flipping the escrima stick in his hand, scowling himself as he looks out the window of the plane. They’ve finished passing over the sea and there’s land again beneath them now.

“Something’s bothering me.”

He looks back at the sound of Bruce talking again.

“What is?”

“The gift.” Bruce types something into the plane’s computer. “She had to know Jason would never allow Damian to keep a weapon like that.”

“Jason would never let him keep anything from her, no matter what it was.”

“Exactly. So what’s the point? Just to remind Jason that she’s out there? That she’s watching?”

They already knew she was watching. It was a given: the League of Assassin’s had spies in Gotham the same as it did anywhere else.

Still, the thought gives Dick pause.

“And if she were plotting to take Damian back some day, she just let us know there’s a flaw in the security on his apartment. She has to know we’ll find that weak spot and upgrade it now that it’s been pointed out.”

“If Jason will even go back there now.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens. “Yes, if that.”

An uncomfortably sense of unease starts to creep into Dick now that Bruce has pointed that out. He was so angry this morning - they all were - that going to Talia and demanding answers was all he could think of. Maybe all any of them could think of.

“She had to know he’d move to the Manor immediately after finding it, though. A place it will be even harder for her to take Damian from.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Bruce’s hands tighten on the steering yoke. “The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t feel like something she’d do.”

“Well to be honest, Bruce, you didn’t think she’d do what she did with Jason and Damian the first time around. Maybe you just don’t know her as well now as you used to. Ra’s wasn’t always the sanest guy around when he was alive either.”

“Maybe.”

Bruce still sounds doubtful, a sentiment which is catching.

Dick chews the inside of his cheek, before biting his lip. He thinks of Damian, of Jason. Of how much he’s already starting to miss them in the intervening hours since they’ve been gone. “We could turn back.”

He can see Bruce considering it. Turning the idea over and over in his head like a quandary spitroast. In the end though, he doesn’t go for it.

“We’re already almost there. We might as well find out what answers we can from Talia herself. They’ll be safe enough in the manor with Robin and Black Bat protecting them.”

Dick sucks in a sharp breath. In that case, he wishes Bruce had never brought up the idea at all, because now it’s going to be bothering him the rest of the way there, and on the flight back even if all should go well when they reach Nanda Parbat.

He is right about one thing though, they are almost at their destination. And if they do want to get answers about what Talia is up to sooner rather than later, the best way is to keep moving forwards, not back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took way too long for me to finish, but I am proud to say that with it this story is the first one I've written to cross the 100k mark XD Also, hello! Welcome back to the soap opera, I hope you're all excited and ready for more.

They break in through a window, in the time-honoured tradition of Bats making social calls.

It’s late in Nanda Parbat by the time they get there, or perhaps more accurately, early morning. In Gotham the sun will only just have sunk beneath the horizon, but here it set hours ago, and while the night is pitch black, it’s also far from quiet.

Assassins, like bats, are nocturnal creatures.

The hallways are lit by flickering torches as they slip through them, avoiding or incapacitating guards in equal measure. Dick has been here only once before in his life, but Bruce more frequently, so it’s he who takes the lead as they make their way deeper into the fortress and Talia’s chambers.

A few minutes of eavesdropping had confirmed for them that Talia is indeed still in residence here. And the closer they get, the louder Dick can feel his heart beating in his chest — the more that anger he’s carried with him from Gotham starts to flare back up again.

He can smell her as they get closer. Alpha female hanging in the air like a thick cloying perfume that burns his nostrils. A necessity to show her leadership and dominance among her followers, but enough to make every instinct Dick is usually so good at holding back rise up again, until a growl is sitting ready behind his teeth before he’s even laid eyes on her.

“Nightwing?”

Bruce is looking back at him, and Dick can only give a stiff nod to show he’s all right. That he’s still in control and not liable to do anything stupid in the next five minutes.

Probably.

Together, they take down the guards stationed near Talia’s rooms, then — with Bruce deliberately pushing forward to be the first inside — open the doors.

Before they came in here, Bruce told him these chambers once belonged to Ra’s, and of course it was only fitting that Talia should have taken them for her own after his death. They’re lit by braziers lightly scented with incense, and the gleam of centuries old ornamentation rests on the walls.. A true villain’s lair, Dick can’t help but think. Just add a few skulls here and there and she’d be set.

Talia herself is sitting behind a large wooden desk in the room when they enter, despite the fact that it’s not even dawn in this part of the world, and irritation shows on her face even before she looks up and sees who the culprits behind the unannounced intrusion are.

“Beloved?!” She startles, and oh good, Dick’s not the first one to let loose a growl at the sight of her. Bruce beats him to it, deep and angry at the term she still dares — perhaps thoughtlessly — to apply to him. “What are you—”

“We need to talk, Talia. _Now_.”

Hate blazes white hot in Dick’s chest as he looks at her for the first time in over two years. The last time they were in a room together, he and Tim had left her chained to a wall while they left with Jason and Damian; judging by the way Talia’s eyes focus back and narrow in on him in return, she hasn’t forgotten that either.

“And you brought backup with you. I’m honoured.” Dick can see her hand hovering near one of the desk drawers as she speaks, “Whatever this is about, it must be serious.”

This time the growl flies free of his own chest. Bruce gave Dick the box to carry with him out of the plane, and now he holds it up, directly into her line of sight. “Cut the crap, Talia. You know why we’re here.”

A snarl of her own twists her lips as she stands up to match them. “I assure you, I do not.”

Her eyes flick to the box, a small frown her only reaction before her attention shoots back to Bruce when he steps forward.

The air of challenge in the room is palpable, even if Talia is the only one giving out scent thanks to the patches both Bruce and Dick are wearing on their necks to contain their own.

“Damian.” Bruce tells her. His hand lifts, gesturing to what Dick is holding. “ _This_ was left outside his bedroom window this morning.”

Devoid of the green and gold wrapping it originally came in, the box is not so immediately identifiable as the work of the al Ghul, but gold filigree over the lid carries patterns that should be familiar to Talia. Not to mention the latch on the front, shaped like a demon’s head to hold it closed.

Surprise widens her eyes — surprise Dick refuses to believe is real — and this time she looks more closely, even going so far as to take a step closer to him despite the reflexive way he bares his teeth at her. “... outside his window, you say?”

There’s something wrong about her tone of voice. It’s not the oily confidence Dick expected, no scoffing bravado that it was her right to give her son a gift for his birthday. Instead it’s soft, with a tinge of what might even be fear; an emotion matched by the expression on her face.

Tension tightens his muscles further. “Don’t try to play dumb. We know you’re the one behind this, you—”

“Show me what’s inside it.”

He stares at her, pauses a second too long before she snaps again.

“Show me what’s inside the box, Grayson!” 

Dick snarls in warning again at her tone, then looks over to Bruce for guidance. He expects to find his scepticism mirrored back at him by his mentor, but instead Bruce’s jaw is clenched tight. There’s no need to voice his question as Bruce nods towards him, indicating that Dick should do as she says.

_This is stupid_ , he thinks. Talia has to be the one behind it. Who else could be? Who else out there could know about Damian and possibly have the motivation to send him something like this?

Slowly he unlatches the box, then flips open the lid before holding it tilted forward so she can see the velvet-cushioned interior and the dagger that lies inside; perfectly sized for a small child’s hand to hold, with a hilt of gold and green.

Talia is a skilled actress, and a brilliant manipulator, but even Dick finds himself hard pressed to believe that the way her face rapidly pales at the sight of the blade is anything but genuine.

“Beloved,” she says softly, the fear now truly audible as she looks away from him and back at Bruce. The dismissal would raise his hackles further if the situation didn’t feel so dire. “This… the blade is of League design but you must believe me…”

Dick tries to brace himself for the words he knows he’s about to hear, but to little effect. It still feels like a punch to the gut when Talia says them.

“I have never seen that weapon before in my life.”

*

“Is he asleep?”

“Yeah,“ Jason sighs in response to Tim’s question from where he stands in the doorway to the den; the big main one that they all use most frequently. “Finally. That took way too fucking long.”

He’s sitting on one of the large corner couches, with Damian curled into a tight ball on his lap. One of his son’s hands is fisted in Jason’s shirt, just below the soft press of his cheek against his chest. He has one of the room’s huge woollen throw blankets tucked around him, and the spread of it is big enough to almost entirely envelop the small boy as well as the long sprawl of Jason’s legs across the floor.

The smile Tim gives him from the doorway of the den is sympathetic. He might have only been an observer to Damian’s hours long resistance to going to sleep tonight, but when there was a grumpy child refusing to go to bed in the house, everyone suffered, directly or not.

It was hard to say exactly what had Damian so rattled. Maybe it was lingering upset from the morning’s events and being denied his present, or excitement for tomorrow, but more likely than that, Jason has the uncomfortable (and guilty) feeling that it had to do with his son intuitively picking up on his own feelings of restlessness and worry throughout the day. Feelings that had only worsened as the hours between Dick and Bruce leaving for Nanda Parbat and now continue to stretch on and on.

It’s an unfortunate fact that Damian is as sensitive to his mother’s moods as Jason is to his. And though he tries hard to keep the worst of his emotions away from his son, sometimes they inevitably leak out, especially on days like today.

None of them could have seen this specific situation coming, but still Jason feels guilty about letting it happen.

“Are you going to take him upstairs?”

Jason shakes his head, “Later. I don’t want to risk him waking up again without me there.”

Not after all the effort it took to get him to sleep in the first place. A hot bath, warm milk and a variety of stories told to him in his own bed hadn’t been enough to get Damian to settle down. He’d demanded to stay up, to stay with Jason, and it wasn’t until they’d settled here, curled up in front of the television with a movie playing, that he’d finally lost the battle against his own exhaustion.

If he were to wake up alone after that…

“Probably a good plan.” Tim agrees as he walks over to join them, tucking himself into the opposite corner of the couch from Jason. “For someone so small, he can cause a heck of a lot of trouble.”

Jason laughs quietly, “That’s kids for you. Really makes you want one of your own, don’t it?”

At that, Tim pulls a face. “Not really. I love Damian but… no. I’ll leave that to you.”

“Probably a wise choice.” Jason agrees, not in the least bit offended. Back before he had Damian, he wouldn’t have pegged himself for the parental type either, and from what he’s come to learn about Tim the past couple years, the kid is definitely not. More than anyone else, he’s usually the first to hand Damian back to Jason when his son starts crying. “Where’s Alfred?”

“Cleaning up in the kitchen, I think.” With Jason’s hands otherwise occupied, he’s powerless to stop Tim snagging the remote from the cushion next to him. “He also said something about setting up the decorations for the party tomorrow once you had Damian in bed.”

“Mm… I should probably help him with that.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Think you’ll stay up that long? You look as tired as Damian is.”

Jason grimaces. “Early morning, long day.” And a long night prior to that too, as the bite mark on the back of his neck and the lingering ache between his legs can attest (though he’s been doing his best not to think about the cause of those particular maladies since then). “I’ll manage, though.”

“You sure?”

It’s meant well, and Tim has been more than patient with him today, so Jason pushes down the flash of irritation he feels at being asked and nods as he looks down at the top of Damian’s head. “Yeah, I…” He chews his lips, then admits, “I don’t want to sleep until they get back.”

Tim frowns for a moment, like he wants to argue, but then wisely decides against it. “Okay. Got any preferences?”

It takes Jason a moment to realise he’s talking about what to put on the TV next. “Oh, uh… no, no. Just so long as it’s not a cartoon. I get enough of those when Damian’s awake.”

“Okay, you asked for it. Star Trek it is.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Nerd.”

“Takes one to know one.” Tim grins. 

He settles back, and after a minute Jason follows Tim’s example, sinking lower into the couch with Damian, so that he’s resting more on Jason’s chest than his lap and he can lean his head back into the cushion behind him.

After what has been an exhausting day, both physically and emotionally, it’s nice to relax like this. To stop thinking about anything but what’s happening on the screen in front of him and the easy warmth of Damian in his arms. Having him there is comforting, and with Tim close by — watching the screen avidly despite the fact he must have seen this episode at least twenty times before — Jason finally feels some of the tension he’s carried with him since this morning begin to wane.

Maybe he will rest his eyes for a few minutes after all.

When he wakes up again, it’s quiet, no sound that Jason can hear except the soft rhythm of Damian’s breathing. The TV is dark and the lights are turned off. Tim is gone, a fact which isn’t surprising. Even contained to the manor, there’s a lot for him to be getting on with, evidence from ongoing cases that needs analysing, and just because Jason had a bad day it doesn’t mean the world has to end for the rest of them.

Trying to stretch without disturbing his son, Jason lets out a long sigh, and blinks as a light breeze tickles his nose.

It’s cold in the room. That… that isn’t right. No way Alfred would turn the heating off in late November, which means…

Jason turns his head. When he focuses, he can just make out the sight of the curtains wafting gently against the open window. What the hell? Did Tim—no, that doesn’t make any sense either. If Damian were to catch a cold because Tim left the window open, he has to know Jason would kill him for it.

The hairs on the back of his neck start to raise upwards. Slowly, Jason slides his right hand beneath the throw blanket, questing for the pocket where he’d hidden a small collapsible batarang this morning, among other armaments. 

At the same time, he notices something move out of the corner of his eye.

*

“You’re lying.” Dick says into the silence that follows Talia’s pronouncement. “You have to be.”

“Do I?” Talia growls back at him, “Or is that just your own wishful thinking, Grayson? You’re both so desperate to see me as the villain, aren’t you? That’s why you came running over here, eager to make me pay for my perceived crime.” Her gaze flattens, becomes hard and accusing. “Well, you were wrong, and now, for all your oaths to protect him, you have left my son in danger; his mother too.”

The snarl twists his lips before he knows it, reacting to the unsung challenge in the air. Dick snaps the box shut again as he steps forwards, squaring his shoulders as he measures up to her. “Fuck you! What the hell else were we supposed to think? The only people who know Damian even exists outside of us are you and _your_ people, Talia. You’re the only one with motivation, you’re—”

“Nightwing, enough!” Bruce snaps at him before he can go any further. A heavy hand lands on Dick’s shoulder and squeezes as he moves between them. “Fighting isn’t going to get us anywhere, and if what you’re saying is true, Talia—”

“It is.” She replies, her eyes still fixated on Dick’s. She looks like she wants to tear his throat out, and feeling is mutual.

“—then _think._ Nightwing’s right, no one else knows about Damian. Which means that if it’s not you, then it has to be one of your people. Are there any among them who might do this, anyone at all who might have the slightest cause to hurt him?”

Talia shakes her head, “If I knew that, Bruce, I promise you, they would already be dead. I only allow my closest and most loyal servants to know of Damian.”

“Apparently not that loyal.” Dick scoffs.

Bruce’s fingers tighten threateningly on his shoulder, though without scent to back it up, the signal from his pack leader to back down only half-works; triggering enough of a instinctive reaction that his shoulders lower, but stopping short of actually calming him. Dick’s still riled, still twitching to attack her. A feeling he doesn’t expect to go away anytime soon. “You’re sure?”

Talia’s lips press into a thin bloodless line. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then we’re wasting time.” Dick turns his head, the panic that’s been running low-level through him ever since Talia first denied knowledge of the dagger rising higher. “B, we need to get out of here. At least get on the radio and warn them.”

“Agreed.” Bruce cuts him off. “Talia—”

“I am coming with you.”

“Oh hell no!” Dick snaps his head back to her when he hears that, “I don’t care if you’re not the one behind this, you’re still not going anywhere near Jason and Damian.”

This time Talia does snarl. “Must I repeat myself again, Grayson? Damian may be in danger because of your idiocy, and regardless of how you’ve wormed your way into bed with his mother, he is still _my_ son. _Mine,_ not yours. You will not stop me from making sure that he is safe, and if you try, I promise you, I will kill you myself.” 

The way she steps forwards is a threat, the sway of her hips a challenge. Dick is fixated on the whiteness of her teeth when she bares them at him, even as he feels his face burn with anger at her words. 

He’s not surprised that she knows about his relationship with Jason. That the League has spies in Gotham keeping an eye on them from afar is a reality they’ve lived with for years even before Damian was born, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay with having the knowledge thrown in his face. The idea of someone watching them together, of reporting _that_ back to Talia is… is...

He growls, and this time it really is only Bruce’s grip on him that stops Dick from launching himself forward at her. 

“Jason doesn’t want you near him.” is what he grinds out between his clenched teeth instead.

“I do not care what Jason wants.”

“Well you fucking should! After what you did to him—!”

“ _Enough._ ” Bruce growls again, making Dick jump as he presses his fingers so tight into his shoulder that bones grind against each other. The instinctive urge to submit to his pack leader rises up despite his best efforts to suppress it, and even Talia takes a wary step back at the sound. “This is getting us nowhere. Nightwing, we’re leaving; Talia, I don’t care what you do, but get in our way or do anything to threaten Jason and Damian, and I promise you, I will take you down, no matter how good your intentions are.”

He turns, drawing Dick with him, who flushes again, feeling like a cowed child when towed by Bruce’s hand. He wrenches his shoulder out from under his grasp to try and maintain some measure of dignity as he follows Bruce to the door, all while making a pointed effort not to look back to see Talia’s reaction to the warning, whatever it may be. 

Angry as he is, Bruce is right. It doesn’t matter right now exactly who’s responsible. What matters is that they get out of here, warn everyone at the manor, then head back to Gotham themselves as fast as they can. Because if they don’t… if they don’t…

Dick closes his eyes. He never should have left Jason’s side.

Stepping blindly, he runs into something hard then. Bruce’s back where he’s standing in the doorway. The cape and cowl conceal a lot, but not the sudden tense line of his shoulders. 

“B?” he asks. “What’s—”

“Get down!”

Dick finds himself thrown then, pushed beneath the heavy weight of Bruce’s body beside the door. And just in time too, as a hail of arrows cuts through the air where they were standing before.

“God damn it, Talia! Call them off!” He yells.

“Stop, you fools! Stop!” Talia shouts, first in English, then in Arabic and Chinese. She’d dived behind a chair when the initial volley came, and that’s Dick’s first clue that things are more rotten in Nanda Parbat than they first thought.

_Only the most loyal. Right._

“We need a plan, boss!” He says urgently to Bruce, when the arrows continue to come despite Talia’s furious yelling.

“Working on one.” Bruce growls.

He digs into his belt, pulling out a set of caltrops from within. No ordinary caltrops either, Dick recognises the tiny circuitry embedded into each one. These are the electrified versions Lucius Fox helped engineer for Bruce last year. They carry a tiny charge, and once thrown at an enemy’s feet, each individual caltrop will link to its neighbour, creating a painful electric net across the floor.

It’s one hell of an effective way to take down a room.

Bruce signals to Dick to distract them, but he doesn’t have to. Finally fed up of her men not listening to her, Talia has chosen to open up fire. Where she’d produced the pistol from Dick doesn’t entirely know (the drawer in her desk is a prime suspect), but it is doing a damn good job of focusing the ninjas attention on her rather than them.

Taking advantage of the moment, Bruce throws the caltrops through the open doors. Five seconds later, a chorus of brief shouts fill the air, followed by the thud of multiple bodies hitting the floor. Talia stops firing, and Dick carefully peers around the door. “All clear, B.”

“For now.” Bruce says darkly. “We need to move before reinforcements come.”

Talia is standing up too, the back of her chair strongly resembling a hedgehog. The expression on her face is one of pure fury as she strides forward, reloading her gun and levelling the barrel at one of the unconscious men’s heads. One who Dick guesses by his dress is the unit’s captain.

“Talia, don’t!” Dick calls out automatically, because whatever else is going on here, he’s still not about to let her kill someone in front of him. Even if that person is an assassin on the side of whoever it is going after Damian and Jason.

“This scum betrayed me!” she snarls, “Betrayed the League, my son!”

“Yes.” Bruce agrees heavily as he sweeps forward beside Dick, “Which means he may know who the ringleader behind all this is. He’ll be more use to us alive.”

“There are ten more of them after I kill him, take your pick.” Talia says coldly, finger tightening on the trigger.

“Wait.” Dick holds up a hand, “Listen.”

All three of them go still, heads cocking to the side to hear better. Bruce frowns, while Talia curses under her breath. From down the hallway echo the sounds of more fighting. Swords against swords. Ninja against ninja.

“That’s not good, is it?” Dick says to Bruce.

“No.” he grimaces, “It’s not. We can’t waste anymore time here, hurry.”

“I’m coming with you.” Talia says again.

Bruce inclines his head towards her, “You need to take care of the League. Whatever insurrection is going on here—”

“Damn the League!” She glares at him. “The two of you have already done more than enough damage in coming here. Take me with you or I will find my own way to Gotham. I do not trust you to save my son from whatever danger you have landed him in alone.”

“The danger we’ve—” Dick starts to say incredulously. The threat she’s talking about clearly came from the League, which puts the blame firmly in one place as far as he’s concerned. Before he can go any further, though, Bruce grabs him by the shoulder and starts dragging him forward.

“We don’t have time to argue this.” His mentor growls. “Keep up, Talia. Otherwise we leave you behind.”

Dick is stunned by the decision, but Bruce’s words have also reminded him how much of a hurry they’re in. He thinks of Jason and Damian in danger, and suddenly Talia inviting herself along with them doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.

He breaks into a run beside Batman, not looking back to see if she’s following, and somewhere outside an explosion rocks the complex.

*

Jason’s tightens his arms around Damian as he launches himself forwards, avoiding by seconds the dart that would have planted itself in his neck if he’d remained where he was. The move startles his son, wakes him, but Jason has no time for gentleness or reassurance now. He ignores the confused and whimpering cry Damian emits as he pulls the blanket with them, using it to cover them both against further projectiles while his eyes remain focused on the door that’s their way out of here.

_Cave_ , he thinks, more than anything else. Than the part of him that’s screaming that he was right, Talia is trying to take Damian away from him again. More than the part that hates himself for not asking Dick to stay this morning (than the part that hates himself for even thinking that at all).

He doesn’t need Dick to protect him, but that doesn’t change the fact that he for damn sure would still like him to be here right now.

Jason doesn’t bother with the door handle, just lifts his foot and kicks the latch. It doesn’t have a lock, so the door gives easily under the force, allowing him to barrel through into the dark hallway beyond.

He can hear footsteps behind him now, and see the places where the shadows sit wrong on the walls. It doesn’t make sense that the lights are out here too. Unless…

Unless they’d cut the power in the house to stop the alarms from going off.

“TIM!” Jason bellows, deciding that the risk of shouting is worth it when he already has pursuers on his tail. “Alfred!”

He knew he should never have trusted in Bruce’s damn security, not after its failure to alert him to the intruder at Damian’s window last night. He should have run, should have hidden. Should have gotten as far away from Gotham as he physically could. Should have gone somewhere where no one knew his face or his name. Lived in the middle of fuck nowhere where he and Damian could—

Jason grits his teeth together to stop his thoughts from spiralling further. Now is not the time.

“Mommy?” Damian whimpers, still sleepy and confused, a second before a second _thwip_ in the air heralds another dart aimed at Jason’s back. At least they seem to want to leave him alive while trying to take his son from him.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” Jason assures Damian as he ducks, losing the cover of the blanket in the process. A quick glance behind him puts at least four attackers — all clad in the black uniforms of ninjas — on his heels, and as much as he would like to stop and fight them, doing so while holding Damian in his arms would be madness. He can’t risk putting him down either, as it would be far too easy for someone to snatch Damian while Jason is focused on another opponent, which leaves running as his only option.

… an option that would so much easier to commit to if he knew he had someone watching his back.

_For fuck’s sake,_ he thinks, _where is Tim?_ Where is Cass, for that matter, surely she should be back by now. And Alfred—

“Jason, duck!” 

“Duck?” Damian asks at the warning shout, while Jason more practically follows through with the action. Birdarangs fly over his head as he drops down to the floor, hitting two of the men behind him and knocking them out. A second later, Tim — in civilian dress with his utility belt slung over his shoulder like a bandolier — flips through the air, bo staff in hand to take out the other two.

Jason presses himself and Damian safely against the wall until it’s done.

“Are you two okay?” Tim asks, reappearing at his side. His hair is mussed, there’s a scrape over his temple and he’s breathing hard. Otherwise, he looks unharmed.

“What do you think?!” Jason hisses back before he can stop himself. “There are assassins in the house, Tim!”

“I’m aware,” Tim replies dryly, without flinching. He’s in full Robin-mode right now, and not about to let himself be cowed by Jason. “We need to get you both down to the Cave.”

“No kidding.” Jason says, fighting to keep Damian from squirming out of his arms.

“Mommy—”

“Shh, little man. Hang on a minute for me.” He runs his fingers through Damian’s hair, down to the back of his neck to sooth him before looking seriously at Tim. “Where’s Alfred? Cass?”

“Cass is still out in the city,” Tim replies seriously, “I haven’t heard from her in over an hour. I…” He looks openly worried for the first time. “I don’t know about Alfred. I was upstairs when the power went out.”

Jason closes his eyes for a second. “We have to—”

“We have to get you and Damian down into the Cave, is what we have to do. I’ll find Alfred once you’re safe.” 

The reflexive urge to insist he goes with Tim is halted only by the weight of Damian in his arms. It feels like a punch in the gut to leave Alfred — possibly hurt, possibly captured or even… For Jason, though, Damian’s safety will win out every time over anyone else’s. His only consolation in doing so is knowing that Alfred would agree with him. 

Not that that knowledge makes him feel any better.

“Fine,” Jason grimaces, “Let’s go.”

Tim nods and starts to lead the way to the study — the closest entrance to them — with quick efficient steps. Jason follows barely a pace behind, batarang in hand and Damian held tight against his chest. His son is quiet, unnerved both by the mood of the adults around him and his rude awakening. He stares at Tim as he moves ahead of them, staff in hand and expression hard while he looks out for more intruders.

It occurs to Jason that after this there’ll be no hiding the truth from Damian. His days of giving his son the belief he has a normal life and family are firmly over. And well… maybe that’s overdue. They couldn’t hide it from him forever, Jason has always accepted that, and maybe he shouldn’t have even tried to do so in the first place. He’d just so badly wanted Damian to have some experience of normalcy in his life. The kind he himself never had.

“Tim-Tim got stick.” Damian whispers. A real whisper instead of the stage-kind he usually does, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Jason squeezes him tighter for a moment, “Yeah, Dami. He does.”

“Big stick.”

For a moment he smiles, “Yeah, pretty big.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Jason pauses, feeling helpless for a moment. He can see Tim briefly look back at them and sets his teeth against it. He can’t get into this right now, not until he knows they’re in a safe position. “I’ll explain soon, Damian, but you need to be quiet for Mommy first, okay? Just for a little while longer.”

He punctuates his words with a squeeze to the back of Damian’s neck to reinforce the importance of the order. It works as Damian burrows his head down into Jason’s chest, and at least for now Jason breathes a little easier.

The hallways of Wayne Manor have never seemed so big and so long as they do in this moment. Not even when Jason was a kid, small and lost within the maze of rooms and staircases until he managed to find either Bruce or Alfred. At least back then, he could always rely on scent to track down the other people in the house, but that method is going to do little to help him now; the intruders are all covered up and invisible to that most primary of senses. Eyes and ears their only methods of detecting them.

He curses the architect responsible for the layout of the manor; that the study is so far removed from the den at the front of the house. And when he gets his hands on Talia....

A thought suddenly occurs to him. “Wait, are we even going to be able to get down into the cave with the power out in the house?”

Tim frowns. “We should be able to, the Cave’s systems, including the entrances, run on a separate source from the house.”

A chill still runs down Jason’s spine as he mind races. He can’t help but worry about what if Talia’s people have somehow managed to disable the power in both the manor and the Cave. Then they really will be fucked.

“Okay, alternative plan,” he says on that basis, “Let’s forget the Cave, head to the garage, grab one of Bruce’s fancy sports cars and—”

The door at the end of the hall flies open and a group of at least six ninjas spills out of it, heading directly for them. At the same time, the sound of footsteps behind them clue Jason into another five approaching from the rear, surrounding them on all sides.

“No time!” Tim grimaces, realising this. He turns round to face Jason, then points at the door to the study, currently between them and the assassins. “I’ll hold them off. Get down there. If the entrance doesn’t work, go out the window and run for the garage. No matter what happens, you keep Damian safe, you hear me?”

“Tim—”

“I’ll join you as soon as I can. Go!”

His fingers dig hard enough into the edges of the batarang that the metal starts to cut into them. Aiming to help the sibling he once would have liked nothing more than to see dead, Jason hurls it forward, hitting one ninja in the head. He watches Tim sprint forwards to meet the group with his staff already spinning in his hand, intercepting them before they can block the doorway, and — hating himself again — Jason uses the opportunity to throw himself inside the study, before running for the grandfather clock.

Nervous sweat slides down his back as he turns the clock hands to 10:48. Damian is a small, precious weight in his arms as Jason listens for the sound of the door unlocking, dreading that it won’t. But miracle of miracles, it does. He wrenches the door open and then hesitates, standing in the doorway while listening to the sounds of the battle going off in the corridor behind him.

“Mommy?” Damian questions him again, fear audible in his voice.

He has to go.

Jason steps into the stairwell and hauls the door shut behind him. With any luck, Tim and Alfred won’t be long in following them. 

Damian shrinks even tighter into his chest as he runs down the stairs as fast as he safely can, following the trail of lights set into the steps themselves. In no time at all, they emerge into the open expanse of the cave’s main cavern, and Jason can feel the moment when his son’s fright starts to turn to wonder.

Damian gasps as he peeks out over Jason’s shoulder. At the yawning spaces of the cave, at the rustling wings of the bats overhead, and the costume cases on the far wall. When Jason steps onto the walkway past the car towards the computer, he actually _squeals_.

“Batman, Mommy!” Damian says urgently, twisting his neck in a vain attempt to see everything at once. “It _Batman_ car!”

Jason surprises himself by laughing. A little hysterically to be truthful, but he does. “Yeah, baby. That’s right, it—”

Then he freezes with his foot on the bottom step of the small staircase that leads up to the computer.

_No,_ Jason thinks, as a man stands up from it, tall and proud, and from the shadows behind the computer another emerges; a hulking figure Jason shakily remembers from Bruce’s files on the League as being named Ubu. _That’s impossible._

There’s a scent in the air he recognises, caustically sharp like another he knows intimately, but this one carries with it a faintly sweet undercurrent of rot.

“Good evening, Jason Todd.” Ra’s al Ghul says pleasantly.

Jason rocks backwards, retreating back onto the walkway he came from. “ _You._ You… how are you…?”

“Alive?” Ra’s fills in for him, raising an eyebrow, “You of all people should know, Jason, that death is not necessarily the end for all of us, and I had many years to prepare for the potentiality of my own demise before it came to be.”

“I don’t…” his mind is still reeling from the revelation when his mouth stammers out, “How did you get in _here_?”

Ra’s looks different than Jason remembers, paler, if no less evil. “I am the Demon’s Head, there is no place on this Earth that I cannot enter.” He smiles, quirking his lips as he folds his arms behind his back. “Ways and means that even a mind as accomplished as the Detective’s cannot think to defend against.”

“Mommy, who is—”

Jason hushes Damian quickly as Ra’s eyes dart down to him. His skin crawls at the look the Demon’s Head gives his son; a mix of intrigue and hunger. Reflexively, he tightens his arms around him, trying to keep an eye on both Ra’s and the hulking figure of Ubu. “It was you. You’re the one who left Damian the box this morning, not Talia.”

“Correct,” Ra’s says calmly, “Consider it my apology for missing my grandson’s previous three birthdays.” His smile sharpens, “And you must admit, it also worked wonderfully as a distraction to get the Detective and Grayson out of the way while I take control of both his home and his precious Gotham.”

Jason clenches his jaw, grasping for some kind of sanity in this situation. He feels sick, his heart is pounding in his chest, and he wants to growl at every small movement Ra’s makes. “They’ll figure it out. They’ll come back here, and when they do—”

“Oh, I’m sure they already have, but it hardly matters in the end. My loyal followers in Nanda Parbat are seizing control of the League back from my treacherous daughter and those who serve her even as we speak. They were only waiting for Batman and Nightwing to arrive to begin. Taking care of three birds with one stone, as you might say.”

“No way in hell,” he shakes his head, disbelieving, “No way in hell did your followers take them out.”

Ra’s tuts, “I feared you might not believe me. No matter, I have proof prepared. Ubu?”

“Yes, Master.” With deceptive grace, Ubu produces a tablet from his person, activates it, and then holds the screen towards Jason.

A chill runs down his spine at what he sees. A snowy plateau, and the smoking remains of the Batplane on top of it, recognisable even in the dark. His heart seizes in his chest at everything it implies.

Dick and Bruce dead, it can’t be.

“No… you… you expect me to believe that? It’s a trick. You fabricated that image. You—”

“Believe what you will, it matters not. The manor is mine, the cave is mine.” Now Ra’s looks impassively at Jason. “Upstairs, both the butler and young Drake are in my hands. I even have the clocktower your ‘Oracle’ resides in surrounded. There is nowhere for you to go, Jason. No one remaining to help you should you try to resist me. Therefore, I would advise you do the sane thing, submit and give up now; avoid any further foolishness and introduce me to my grandson properly.”

Jason’s mind races. Dozens of thoughts, plans and possibilities examined and discarded in a second. He could try and take down both Ra’s and his servant alone, sure, but Ubu is highly skilled by himself, and Ra’s… Ra’s is on a whole other level. Not to mention, despite his efforts of the last couple months, Jason is still out of practice. The chances of him defeating them both alone are next to impossible. And with having to protect Damian at the same time...

The car is a tempting possibility behind him, but that’s only if he can succeed at getting himself and Damian into it and out of the cave before Ubu can stop them. And if he were to run, to flee, what would happen then to Alfred and Tim? To Barbara if Ra’s is telling the truth about having his people positioned at the clocktower. Would he kill them, hurt them, or worse?

On the other hand, if he does surrender then… Jason’s palms sweat as he holds onto Damian, turning his nose into his son’s hair. He _can’t_. He can’t do that. Can’t hand his son over to the Demon’s Head. “No,” he says, “No way in hell am I letting you take him. Whatever you want with Damian, whatever you’ve got planned, it’s not happening.”

Ra’s is unmoved. “He is my grandson, omega.”

“And my son!” Jason hisses. “If I didn’t let Talia take him from me, what chance in hell do you think you have?”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I am not trying to take him from you, Jason.” Ra’s says indulgently, spreading his hands out to either side of him. “I am not a fool, I know better than my daughter to try to keep a child from his mother when there is another way. You are also the first omega to produce a healthy alpha male to my bloodline, something for which I tremendously grateful. Why else do you think I instructed my men to take you alive? Surrender now, and I promise I will allow you to remain with Damian and care for him as I see fit.”

“As you see fit…” Jason repeats disbelievingly, “You mean as you twist him and turn him into a weapon to serve you?! Yeah, thanks but no thanks, asshole.” Damian is very quiet in his arms. Jason tries not to think too hard about that as he starts to sidle sideways towards the car. “And don’t try to tell me you’ll let my family go if I surrender. I’m not an idiot either, Ra’s.”

“As I prepare him for the destiny he was born to.” Ra’s responds. He’s starting to look openly annoyed, “I will offer you one last chance to surrender peacefully, Jason. If you do not—”

“Go suck a knot!” Jason snarls, taking another step towards the car.

Ra’s sighs heavily. “Very well. I tried to do this the easy way. Ubu, retrieve my grandson and restrain his mother.”

Jason waits until almost the last possible second before dropping the smoke pellet in his pocket to the floor. Sometimes, arming yourself out of paranoia really does pay off. He only wishes he could have warned Damian to hold his breath, but he does his best to protect his son’s lungs from the smoke by holding his face against his chest instead as he runs, not for the car, but the path down to the boat and the underground river out of the cave.

The dupe will only buy him a little time, if they fall for it at all, so Jason tries to make the most of his head start, navigating more by memory than sight. There are two paths down to the boat; the fastest significantly more dangerous than the other while trying to hold onto a squirming four year old. Jason prays he won’t have to use it.

An angry shout comes from behind him as Ubu realises what he’s done, followed by Ra’s scorning words. Jason’s ears, however, are more primed to the soft sound of Damian coughing; his frightened whimpers. It hits to the core of him, reinforcing the horrible decision he’s had to make of offspring over the rest of his family, and the pulsating urge inside him to do anything to keep his child safe.

Loud footsteps echo across the metal walkways as Ubu spots where Jason has fled to. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, Jason realises that the safe and easy way is out. He won’t outrun Ubu on that path, which means…

“Hold onto me, Dami. Hold on real tight, you understand?”

Jason doesn’t wait for an answer as he leaps for the rappel line, grabbing tight onto it with one hand while holding Damian to him with the other. The skin on his palm rips open as he slides down the cord without gloves, but Jason barely feels it. He can see the boat, smell the water. Escape so very close.

Dropping onto the dock, he lets go of the rope and runs the last few feet to the boat. He almost stumbles at the end, climbing into the already open cockpit and setting Damian down on the passenger seat.

This time he doesn’t have to tell Damian to stay. He’s wide-eyed and shaking enough that Jason knows he won’t be moving anywhere. Which is good as much as it is bad, because before they can get out of here there’s still the small matter of the rope binding the boat to the dock to deal with.

Times like these, Jason _really_ misses his kris.

It takes a few seconds to input the engine ignition sequence into the boat’s computer (the updated codes for which Jason has thankfully already been made privy during his training with Bruce). While he’s doing that, Jason also takes the opportunity to rout around inside the boat for more weapons. Then he climbs out to undo the rope, just in time too, as Ubu chooses that moment to land on the platform.

“You will come with me, Jason Todd,” he snarls, “You and the Master’s grandson.”

Jason growls in return, teeth bared and shoulders squared. He doesn’t reach quite the same deep pitch that Ubu does, but it’s darker than most omegas could manage, and Jason can tell by the small reaction on Ubu’s face that he’s surprised. “I already told Ra’s thanks but no thanks, ugly. Same answer goes to you.”

He releases the rope at the same time as Ubu leaps forward. Damian gives a frightened shout, but Jason is ready for it. He brings up the flare gun he found inside the boat, and without hesitation fires it directly at Ubu.

The light is blinding as the flare goes off. A startled, then pained shout is Jason’s reward for his action, but he doesn’t stay to see how much damage was done. Instead, he leaps into the boat and without looking back closes the cockpit and guns the engine. They won’t be safe until they’re out in the open water, after which Jason will have to think of somewhere safe that he can take Damian to hide from Ra’s forces in the city. Then...

Jason swallows as he hits the autopilot on the boat to take them through the tunnels so that he can reach over and pull Damian back into his arms to soothe him. His son trembles as Jason buries his face in his hair and grits his teeth.

Then he’s going to figure this shit out. He’s going to think of a way to beat Ra’s. To save Barbara, Alfred and Tim. He won’t let Ra’s win this, and he won’t let him get his hands on Damian either.

God, he hopes Dick and Bruce are safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who guessed Ra's last chapter... well done, you're all winners |D


	14. Chapter 14

Jason makes it five minutes out of the cave and into the Gotham bay before the boat’s speakers come to life, filling the interior with the slick sound of Ra’s oily voice.

“ _Turn around_.”

He ignores it, burying his face in Damian’s hair as he reaches out, one-handed, to turn off the boat’s comm. But before he can flick the switch Ra’s continues:

“ _If you do not turn around and return to the cave, I will kill them, Jason._ ”

Bile rises up his throat as he looks at the comm unit. Jason can feel Damian tugging at his shirt. A whispered “Mommy,” reaches his ears, and he wars intensely with himself on whether to actually answer the call or not. But finally, he gives in and moves his hand from the off-switch to open up the channel on his end.

“Kill them, and you have no leverage left over me, Ra’s.” he replies harshly, “You’re a madman if you think I’ll ever hand Damian over to you willingly.”

“ _Not even for the lives of your pack?_ ”

Jason hopes the sound of him swallowing isn’t audible over the comm, “They’ll understand. More than anything, they’ll want me to keep Damian safe from _you_.”

A tense moment passes as on the other end of the line Ra’s considers this.

“ _I do not believe you are taking my threat seriously, but out of respect for your position as my grandson’s dam, I will give you the opportunity to reconsider. You have three hours. Return to Wayne Manor within that time or I **will** kill a member of your family. Fail to return an hour past that and I will kill another. I trust you understand I am not lying in this matter.”_

Sick fuck. Jason clenches his teeth together as he grinds out an affirmative, “As a full fledged nutjob, yeah, I believe you.”

_“Good.”_ Ra’s ignores his insult. _“Their lives, and their deaths, are in your hands. Remember that, Jason Todd._ ”

“Fuck you too, Ra’s.” Jason’s hands shake as he terminates the connection, then slumps back in his seat. His head is spinning, and he feels completely sick knowing the full scope of what it is he’s facing.

“Mommy?”

But unfortunately he has no time to indulge in his own misery. There are too many people who are counting on him to hold it together right now, starting with his son.

Jason swallows back anything else he might be feeling, tamping it down into the back of his mind as he runs his fingers over Damian’s cheek. “Hey, baby. It’s okay.” He’d spent the last few minutes between the time they escaped the cave and Ra’s’ message coming through calming down and reassuring him, and he’s not about to let Ra’s undo that now. “Don’t be scared.”

Damian sniffles. His eyes are puffy and red, hair dishevelled, and in his bright pyjamas he looks completely out of place in the Batboat’s dark interior. “Are Alfred and Tim-Tim going to die?”

“No,” Jason answers instantly, stomach clenching at the question. “No, of course not.”

“Bad man said—”

“Bad man is a liar.” Jason says fervently, “Don’t you listen to him.”

Damian trembles despite the reassurance. He’s shaken worse than Jason’s ever seen him, even past nightmares and the occasional sickness. He’s also exhausted from being rudely awoken, and scared by everything he’s heard and witnessed tonight. Maybe if he was younger he wouldn’t be able to comprehend the full depth of Ra’s’ threat, but unfortunately for Jason that’s not the case. “I don’t want t’go away, Mommy.” Damian whimpers, “Want t’go home.”

“I know.” Jason replies instantly, gritting his teeth as he gathers him closer. “I know. Me too, and we will, Damian. I promise. Just as soon as it’s safe to.”

“Want t’go home now!” His son whines louder, and Jason has to force himself not to cave in under the sound. “Want home an’ D’aw! Want Duck an’ Grandpa an’—-”

“Damian, listen to me!” He says firmly, cupping Damian’s face in his good hand and making sure they’re looking each other square in the eye. “I promise, no one’s ever taking you away from me.” Not ever again. He’s always sworn that, no matter what it takes or what he has to sacrifice to make it so. “But right now, we can’t go home. We need to hide, okay? Once we do that, Mommy can get some help and save Tim-Tim and Alfred.”

Damian sniffles, lifting his arm and rubbing tears and snot all down his sleeve. “Batman help?” he asks, clearly not too shaken to remember what it was he saw in the cave.

Jason bites his lip, thinking of the screenshot of the smoking Batplane. “Yeah,” he says eventually, forcing a smile, “Batman help. We just need to get somewhere safe first.”

“Batman lives under Grandpa’s house.”

_You don’t even know the half of it, Dami._ he thinks, watching as Damian rubs his face across his sleeve again, before resting himself down against Jason’s chest. He’s clearly exhausted still, and Jason swallows as he rubs his right hand up and down his son’s back, wincing when a throb of pain makes itself known across his palm. He takes it away, replacing it with his other hand and wincing as he looks at the mess of torn skin and blood that has been left from where he’d grabbed the drop-line bare handed.

There are medical supplies somewhere in the boat, but damned if Jason cares enough to look for them now. His mind is focused on more important things, like where the hell he and Damian are supposed to go now.

Almost immediately, he discards the thought of going to any of Bruce’s safehouses that he knows of. Jason can’t trust that they haven’t been compromised now that Ra’s has control of the manor and the cave. Similarly, he doubts that any of his own safehouses from his Red Hood days are still secure either, given how long it’s been.

He really wishes he knew where Cass is.

Frustratingly low on options, Jason tries to think. He needs to go somewhere Ra’s would never expect of him. Somewhere with someone he can trust to protect Damian while Jason works on rescuing his family within the three hour time limit. Someone to whom Ra’s would never think Jason has any real connection…

Looking down at Damian, he suddenly has an idea.

Jason summons a soothing purr from his throat as he leans forward, inputting the commands into the boat’s navigational computer to take them to the shore. It’s a long shot, but he’s fairly sure she won’t turn them away.

 

* * *

 

“The hell?” Selina Kyle says, staring at the pair of them through her open door. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Selina.” Jason says wryly, shifting Damian’s weight in his arms. “Can we come in?”

Her eyes track down over them. Jason waits impatiently for Selina to take in their appearance; Damian in his pyjamas with an emergency blanket from the boat wrapped around him, and Jason himself not at all dressed to be out in the November cold, wearing only socks and no shoes on his feet. He sees her nose twitch, and knows she’s reading their scents; all the distress and anguish rolled up into them.

After a couple moments of this, she finally moves aside to let them in. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I know.” Jason replies. He looks around as soon as he’s stepped over the threshold and the door is closed behind them. Selina’s apartment is clean, and for lack of a better word, _classy_ in every way, with tasteful furniture and neutral decoration. It looks like something out of an interior decorating magazine, and smells warmly of both cat and omega.

Despite himself, Jason can’t help but relax a little at that last part.

Carefully, he sets Damian down on her white fabric couch, gently shushing him when he starts to fuss. “I’ll be right back, Dami. I just need to talk to this lady, okay? You stay right there.” Then he turns around to face Selina, expression gone deadly serious. “I need your help.”

“I’ll say,” she replies, eyeing him warily still, “What happened?”

It’s been a long time since Jason and Selina last talked properly — if they ever did. Not since he was Robin, in fact. But she knows who he is still and he knows that Bruce trusts her, if nothing else. He wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t. “It’s the League of Assassins,” he answers her honestly, “They’ve taken over the manor. My place isn’t safe, and I don’t know if any of our other safehouses are either.”

“The League of Assassins?” Selina reacts with genuine surprise. “Wait, why? What happened to the rest of your costumed friends?” Jason sees the moment where she clicks onto how serious his presence at her door actually is. “... where’s Bruce?”

“I... I’m not sure.” he answers after a moment. “He and Nightwing went after Talia earlier today, but we haven’t heard anything in awhile. As to why they attacked us…” he turns his head, looking back at Damian. His son is still where he left him, curled up around one of Selina’s fluffy cushions, but his head has perked up, turned in the direction of one of her cats where it’s laid sleeping across the opposite arm of the couch. Jason smiles a little at the sight.

Selina follows his gaze. She doesn’t ask for any further explanation. “So this is what, a power grab to get him back? Talia’s the one behind this?”

“No,” he breathes deeply, “Not quite.”

Jason jumps a little when Selina’s hand touches his shoulder, “Kid, now’s really not the time to play coy. I doubt I was first choice on your wish list of potential allies, which means you came to me for a good reason, so tell me. _Everything_. And fast.”

He clenches his hands into fists, feeling a fresh ripple of pain run up his right arm. “Right. You’re right. I’m just… can we sit down first?” His legs feel more than a little weak.

Selina nods and leads him to a small round table near the kitchen, far enough away that Damian won’t be able to hear them, but still leaving Jason with a clear line of sight to his son. By the time he’s done talking, he can see the shock he felt earlier echoed back in her face.

“Jesus,” Selina says, pressing her fingers against her temple, “What a mess.”

“Tell me about it.” he bitterly replies.

“How long has it been since Ra’s gave you his ultimatum?”

Jason’s eyes go to the ticking cat clock on her wall. He has to squint to discern the numbers, which reminds him of his own building exhaustion as well. “About thirty-five minutes.”

She curses again, soft and under her breath, but with enough venom for Jason to remember that (despite her opulent surroundings now) Selina was once just as much a kid of the streets as he used to be. “So what do we do to stop him? What’s your plan here?”

“ _We_ don’t do anything. I just need you to look after Damian for me while I take care of this.”

“Alone?” Selina arches an elegant eyebrow, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded across her chest. “How? You have no equipment. You don’t even have shoes. And if what he said about holding Oracle captive is true, you can’t hit two locations at once by yourself.”

“I won’t be by myself.” At least he hopes not. “That’s the other favour I wanted to ask you; can I borrow your phone?”

Selina looks unconvinced, but she still stands and walks over to one of the drawers in her small kitchen space. Jason watches her extract a nondescript cell phone from inside of it, which she then hands across to him. He guesses it’s a burner phone she keeps ready for work, rather than her own personal number. “I hope you know what you’re doing, kid.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dialling the number by memory, “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Roy picks up on the third ring, and promises to be in Gotham in even less time than that. But since he doesn’t actually possess teleporter technology, Jason is forced to spend an additional fifty minutes anxiously pacing the interior of Selina’s apartment and constantly checking on Damian, touching and stroking his son’s hair to reassure himself that he’s still there while Damian fights to stay awake with him.

Eventually, Selina snaps at him to sit down again so she can at least bandage his hand, which he reluctantly allows.

“So,” she says conversationally as she ties off the bandage, which doesn’t mean Jason can’t see through her attempt to distract him from worrying over the situation, “I can see why Bruce asked me to look into finding him a kitten.”

“Yeah.” Jason replies, watching the black cat, Isis, scamper up a bookcase to avoid Damian’s grasping fingers. “He’s obsessed, pretty much.”

“Hm,” Selina agrees noncommittally, “Let’s hope he behaves better than that when he gets it.”

Jason wants to tell her that tonight really isn’t a good measure of Damian’s normal behaviour, but instead just grits his teeth, “Maybe you could teach him, while he’s here.”

She reaches up and pats his cheek, which Jason half-heartedly growls at. “No thanks, junior, I’ve never been the maternal type. I’ll leave that responsibility to you.”

Ten minutes after that, there’s the sound of what could be footsteps on the roof above them, and barely thirty seconds later Roy is barrelling into the apartment with Koriand’r not far behind him.

“Haven’t you people ever heard of knocking?” Selina says cagily at the intrusion, but Roy ignores her, focused on making a beeline for Jason.

Jason stiffens at first from the sudden contact, but then almost immediately relaxes at the first breath he takes of Roy’s scent. The weight of everything that’s happened today hits him like a freight train as he sinks forward, half collapsing into his friend’s arms.

“Hey, Jaybird.” Roy says softly.

“Hey,” Jason says thickly a moment later, “Glad you could make it.”

“And miss the chance to kick ninja ass again? No way.” Muscled arms squeeze him tighter before Roy pulls away. Kori stands a polite distance behind him, seeming to glow even in the warm light of the apartment. “Can’t let you get into trouble without me.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” Jason says dryly, reluctantly letting Roy go. “Hey, Kori.”

“Hello, Jason.”

She doesn’t try to hug him, though she probably would if she thought Jason would allow it. They’ve met a few times before now, but they’re certainly not there yet in terms of his own comfort levels. He runs his hand back through his hair, “Do you both know Selina?”

“Catwoman.” Selina says silkily, stepping forward to introduce herself. “And no, I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced before. Do come in.” she adds sarcastically, referring to their impromptu entrance.

“Yeah, um, sorry about that?” Roy asks. His gaze slips by Jason, further into Selina’s living room. When Jason turns to see what he’s looking at, he spies Damian watching them. His son is sprawled next to one of the more tolerant cats now, but he doesn’t jump up and run over to say hi to Roy like he normally would (though he does stare a little at their costumes). “He okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, he’s…” Jason struggles to answer, then lets his shoulders slump as he speaks honestly. “No. No, he’s not. He’s tired and upset and confused and…” he pulls at his hair again, “Fuck, Roy. I don’t know. I don’t know how to talk to him about this. He’s already scared he’s going to be taken away after hearing what Ra’s said. And with everyone else captured or missing—”

“Hey, hey. Easy.” Roy says soothingly, taking Jason’s good hand in his and squeezing it, “We’re here now and we’re going to figure this shit out, no problem. You’ve got a plan, right?”

Jason shrugs in answer, thinking of the desperate and half-formed ideas he’s been tossing around in his mind ever since they escaped the cave. “Kind of?”

“That’s good. Better than nothing. I’m going to go say hi to your little monster, then you can tell me all about it, okay?”

He draws in a deep breath, releases it. “Okay.”

In actual fact, Jason ends up following with Roy as he goes to talk to Damian, gently greeting and speaking to him with the kind of light-hearted banter Jason himself isn’t capable of right now. He smiles a little as Roy teases his son about being up so late, asking him if he’s a vampire now, and Damian responds positively, actually managing a tiny grin in response as he hugs one of the couch cushions.

It’s a precious five minutes off their remaining time limit, but not anything Jason can begrudge them taking.

He strokes Damian’s hair before they leave him again. Selina has the usual streaming services set up on her television, so Jason’s able to switch that on to one of his favourite programmes, thank God. With any luck, Damian may just fall asleep of his own accord watching it.

Back in the kitchen area, he begins to tell the assembled group his plan.

“Two teams. If what Ra’s is saying about Barbara is true, we’re going to need to hit the clocktower at the exact same time as the manor to have a chance at saving everyone, otherwise they could kill her while we’re rescuing Alfred and Tim and vice versa.”

Roy and Kori nod, while Selina watches, listening in with pursed lips from where she stands next to the kitchen counter. “Makes sense. But who goes where?” Roy asks.

Jason drags his hand back through his hair, “The Manor is going to be where most of his forces are, and it has two hostages. It’s going to take two of us to infiltrate it and get them out.”

Of course, ideally they’d have two people or more to hit both locations. Unfortunately, Jason has no time to try and call in anyone else even if he knew who to call. He’d actually been hoping Roy would be able to bring some of the other members of the Outsiders, but apparently they’re already embroiled in another conflict elsewhere. It sucks, but they have what they have, and they’re going to need to make do.

Roy considers this, “Kori’s got more firepower than I do. If it comes down to it I can handle getting into the clocktower alone if you tell me how.”

“More firepower, maybe,” Selina interrupts, “But she sticks out like a sore thumb. No offence, sweetie,” she looks at Kori, “Stealth just doesn’t seem like it’s your strong suit, and from what I understand of the situation, stealth is what you’re going to need until the hostages are rescued.”

The shift of Kori’s body tells Jason that she is most certainly offended, if not understanding at the same time. She voices the same thought Jason’s having, “I do not see what other option we have.”

“Me.” Selina answers glibly, as if it’s obvious. “You have me.”

Jason blinks, “You want in on this?”

“I know the manor. And if any of Ra’s’ minions do happen to follow your trail here,” She nods at Kori, “Miss Tall and Golden there is going to be a lot more formidable when it comes to protecting the kid.” Selina examines her nails, “I’d also enjoy getting the chance to scratch Ra’s’ eyes out if he really has hurt Bruce.”

She… has a point. If any assassins realise where Jason’s gone, facing a 6’4, alien warrior princess who can shoot energy blasts from her hands, has super strength and can fly, will be a lot bigger problem for them than Selina. Kori could also get Damian out of danger simply by whisking him out of the apartment and into the sky.

“Is that all?”

“What? You want me to say I could also take the opportunity to lift a few of Bruce’s valuables at the same time to make myself sound more believable?” Selina raises an eyebrow at him.

He flushes, chastened, “No. No, you’re right. Kori?”

“The reasoning is sound. But I will defer to your judgement on what is best, Jason. This is your family, and your home.”

Jason considers for a moment, and with the clock ticking ever forward, makes a swift gut decision. “Okay, Catwoman it is. Starfire will stay here and watch over Damian.”

“All right.” Roy says with a definitive nod, reaching to squeeze his hand under the table. “Then can I suggest we get going and figure the rest out along the way? We’re going to be cutting it close to Ra’s’ deadline as it is.”

“Just let me get suited up.” Selina says, before walking away from the table and disappearing into her bedroom.

Jason watches her go before looking at Roy, “Did you bring me…?”

“Everything you need to get locked and loaded is waiting over in the _Pequod_ , Jaybird. Boots might pinch your toes a little, but I didn’t exactly have time to go shopping before charging over here.”

“Okay.” he swallows. Normally he would have made some quip about Roy’s feet being bigger than his, but right now he’s far too preoccupied with thoughts of the ridiculous, insane plan they’re about to try and pull off. “I… I’ll go say goodbye to Damian, then.”

“Jay,” Roy catches his wrist, “You know if you wanted to stay, Kori could—”

“No,” Jason shakes his head as he pulls away, “This is my mess, and I need to fix it.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“It’s true enough. I left Alfred and Tim behind, now it’s my job to go save them.”

Jason doesn’t give Roy a chance to say anything more. He walks away from him, across the room to where Damian is curled up on the couch, still awake and staring blankly at the television screen through eyes that look ready to fall shut at any moment. He has his hand fisted in one of the cushions there, while another of Selina’s cats — a small calico — has taken up residence on the arm beside him, purring softly.

Moving carefully, Jason kneels down in front of the couch. “Hey, little man. You’re looking pretty sleepy.”

“‘M’tired.” Damian agrees, reaching out with one small hand.

Jason takes it instantly with his left, squeezing his fingers before bringing it up up to his lips and pressing a kiss to Damian’s knuckles. “Way past your bedtime,” he agrees. On the back of the couch is a throw blanket — made of cashmere, Jason thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to reach up with his bandaged hand and pull it down, tucking the corners around his son before moving his hand to stroke Damian’s hair. “You going to take a nap for me?”

Damian shakes his head, but his eyelids flutter down towards closed before fighting their way back up again.

“Okay,” Jason acknowledges, continuing to stroke his hair. “That’s okay, baby.” This time he presses the kiss to Damian’s forehead, lingering there as he inhales deeply. He smells so good beneath the fear sweat, still so sweet even as he’s leaving toddler-hood behind. In another year or so, his own true scent will take over completely, but for now Jason still has this. “You can stay right here and watch TV or play with the kitty cats as much as you want tonight, okay?”

“Mommy, you stay too.” Damian murmurs, trying to nuzzle back at him.

Jason breathes in sharply. It’s just a normal request from a frightened child to their parent, but in this moment it feels laser guided to strike him in the heart. He shakes his head a little, “I can’t right now, Dami,” He says solemnly, “I have to go out with Uncle Roy for a little while.”

At this, Damian perks up a little, for all the wrong reasons. “Go?” he repeats.

Jason nods, repeating, “Just for a little while. It’s important.”

“Why?” His son demands, sweet scent starting to sour again. It feels like a betrayal, even though Jason knows it must be done.

“We’re going to go get Tim and Alfred back,” he says truthfully, because he’s done lying to him. “That’s why Uncle Roy came here, he’s going to help me. It’s why we came here too, so you can be safe while I do that.”

Damian’s eyes widen, “From the bad man?”

Jason nods slowly. “Yes, from the bad man.”

Damian shakes his head, as much as he can in his position, “Don’t want you t’go. Stay here. You got to stay here.”

“I can’t,” Jason forces himself to say this time. “I know you’re scared, Dami, but I have to do this. Kori’s going to stay here with you in the meantime, I promise you’ll be safe.”

“Don’t want, Kori! Want you!” He protests, clinging tighter. Jason swallows. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Selina emerge from her bedroom, dressed in her catsuit, hood and goggles, with her whip and bolas at her waist.

“I know, I know.” He mutters, “But this is important, Damian. This is so important. You want Alfred and Tim to be safe too, don’t you?”

Damian hesitates, then slowly nods.

“Then I gotta go. But I promise I’ll be back for you as soon as I’m done. I _promise_. And when I do, I got so much to tell you, baby. So much.” He kisses his forehead again, before forcing his hands to untangle themselves from Damian. “Everything, okay? All about Batman, you’re going to love it.”

The words don’t have their desired effect, as Damian shakes his head and sniffles. “No. No, don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“No!”

Jason doesn’t want to, but in the face of this he has no choice. He has to go, and there’s no time for him to calm Damian any other way. He puts his hand to the back of his son’s neck and gives it a hard squeeze. “Stop,” he orders quietly, “Stop.” And after a few seconds of holding the grip, Damian goes limp, growing tantrum easing down to soft whimpering breaths. Jason feels terrible for it, but the action has the desired effect.

When he’s sure Damian isn’t going to start up again as soon as he lets go, Jason leans in and nuzzles his hair one last time. “I love you, little man. I’m sorry.” he tells him.

He pulls away, and Kori nods at him as she comes down to kneel beside Damian instead, reaching to touch his hair and murmuring to him softly in her sweet, lyrical voice. She’s good with kids, and she’ll protect him with her life if she has to, he knows, but that doesn’t make Jason feel any better as he walks away from the couch to where Selina and Roy are stood waiting.

Roy directs a questioning look his way, and Jason glares in turn, before straightening his shoulders. No more doubts, this is what’s happening. “You guys ready?”

They both nod to him.

“Good. Then let’s move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Patrick Stewart voice* _Drama._
> 
> Also I don't know what a consistent posting schedule is anymore.


	15. Chapter 15

Jason’s never been aboard the Pequod before. It’s a small ship, big enough for six people at best. The tech it’s made of, on the other hand, is as advanced as it gets. Not that he has the time to admire that fact right now.

Standing in the ship’s interior, he pulls on the pair of boots Roy brought him, as a well as a belt, holster and pair of custom built handguns. He slides a knife inside his sleeve, lines his pockets with a fresh supply of smoke pellets, flashbangs and tracker chips. Nothing too fancy, but if this plan is going to work he needs to make his attempt to arm himself look good.

Selina’s standing guard outside, but Roy is in here with him, leaning over the main computer console and tapping in commands to make sure the ship’s cloaking is continuing to hold. He’d parked it on top of one of the empty warehouses by the docks when he and Kori arrived; far enough away from Selina’s apartment and the manor that hopefully none of Ra’s people were able to track it and mark their landing. Certainly no one has tried to attack them yet, which can only be a good sign.

“You know, I could try calling Dick and Batman if you want.” Roy says, turning his head to look back at Jason as he adjusts the fall of his jacket to hide the handguns. “The Pequod's got long distance communication capabilities. If I tune in to their frequency, they might pick up.”

It’s tempting, but Jason has to dismiss the idea. Not least because he doesn’t know if he could handle the chance of getting a response from them right now. It’s better to stay in the limbo of believing they’re probably all right than get a definite confirmation that they’re not. “Even if they did,” he replies, “Ra’s might pick up on the signal as well. He got onto the boat’s comm, which means he might pick up on any other communication we make along our frequencies. We can’t risk him anticipating what we’re doing.”

“I don’t think anyone could anticipate what we’re doing, Jaybird.” Roy answers wryly, sighing as he turns away from the computer. “If we had time, I’d definitely be talking you out of this.”

“If we had time, I’d come up with a better plan.” Jason grimaces, “Unfortunately this is the only option we have.”

“Jason—”

“I can’t hand Damian over to him, but I can’t just stand by and let my family die either.” He continues, gaze directed down at the floor. “I have to do this.”

“I know, I know.” Roy replies, stepping up beside him and bumping his shoulder against Jason’s. “It’s big damn hero time. Just… be careful, okay? Don’t make me come haul your ass out of there too.”

“As if I need that kind of embarrassment.” Jason gives in and leans back against him for a moment, “I got this, Roy. Trust me. All you need to do is get Babs out.”

Roy doesn’t say anything, but the push of his head against Jason’s is answer enough.

They part a minute later outside the ship. Selina has her motorbike ready to take them up to the manor, while Roy will be using the rooftops to make his way to the clocktower. Climbing on to ride pillion behind her feels odd at first, but she’d said outright that there’s no way she’ll let Jason drive. Probably a wise choice, given how fucked his right hand is right now.

Breaking every speed limit, they make it into Bristol with ten minutes to spare on Ra’s’ deadline. At the bottom of the hill, Selina reins in the bike, and they both climb off before wheeling it to the side of road out of sight of any prying eyes that might come along. “Ready for this, tiger?” she says, turning back to Jason once it’s done.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. You all hooked in?”

Selina taps the comm in her ear.

“Okay, good.” He nods, “Keep Roy updated, as soon as you’re in position—”

“I’ll give him the go signal, I got it.” she says. Then to Jason’s great surprise, Selina closes the distance between them, lifting one hand up to run her fingers back through his hair.

“What are you doing?” He asks, confused as he reflexively flinches back. Then again when he feels something small and hard attach itself to the base of his skull under the cover of his hair. “Did… did you just put a tracker on me?”

“Insurance,” Selina replies silkily, “Just in case. You Bats have a knack for getting yourselves out of trouble by courting more of it.”

Jason’s not sure how to respond to that without basically admitting it’s true. He solves the problem by ignoring the remark entirely. “Anything else you need from me before we get on with this?”

“Nope, that’s all.” She turns around to start walking through the trees. “See you on the other side, kitten.”

Yeah, Jason thinks grimly, starting to trek up the hill as soon as she’s disappeared. On the other side.

 

* * *

 

That today could have gone better would be the understatement of the century, Tim thinks, if he were in actual way inclined to say it.

His head is an aching mess of pain, as is his back. Lingering reminders of the beating Ra’s soldiers had given him after the fight in the hallway. But at least he’s awake, that’s one good thing, unlike poor Alfred, who’s still laid out unconscious on the floor next to him after having been darted with some unknown drug during the first hour of the invasion. Tim has to resist the constant urge to check that he’s breathing, only comforting himself with the knowledge that their captor still wants them both alive. At least for now.

And speaking of their captor, across the room from where Tim kneels sits the culprit for it all: Ra’s al Ghul himself, lounging back in Bruce’s own wingback chair as if he owns it and sipping a glass of wine taken from the Manor’s cellar. A fine red, probably worth more than Tim’s entire food bill for the month, if his knowledge of the man’s refined tastes are anything to go by.

_Arrogant bastard._

Licking his cracked lips, Tim takes a deep breath before forcing himself to take the risk of breaking the silence. “He’s not coming.” he says.

There’s a pregnant pause in the air before Ra’s turns his head to look at him, seemingly amused that he’s spoken at all judging by the look on his face. “You should pray that he does,” he replies calmly, “Seeing as how your life depends on his timely arrival.”

Yeah, as if Tim didn’t already know that.

“He won’t,” he says again, pushing his point in what is an admittedly slim hope for survival. “Which means there’s no point to this. You know that, Ra’s.You have to. Jason will never come back here now that you’ve let him escape, no matter what you threaten him with, and _especially_ not with Damian.”

Shifting in his chair, Ra’s allots Tim a little more of his attention. “You believe he cares so little for you?”

The words are designed to wound, but Tim doesn’t let them. He knows the truth. More importantly, he’s okay with it. “I know he cares for his son more than anyone else in existence. He’d do anything to keep him safe.”

“Including letting you die?”

“Anything.” Tim confirms, wholeheartedly.

“Hm.” Ra’s reaches up his free hand, running his fingers through his beard. “If that’s so, then what possibly reason do I have to continue keeping you alive?”

Tim feels his lips tilt into a dour smile as he answers, “None at all.”

“Such a defeatist attitude, Timothy. Hardly what I would expect from one of your considerable intelligence.”

He shrugs, ignoring the backhanded compliment, “Not defeatist, just realistic. I’m trying to save you wasting your time, Ra’s.”

“How very generous of you.” is the sardonic reply. “It would save me more time, however, if you would simply volunteer where it is Jason may have run to.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“ _Can’t._ ” he emphasises. Tim draws himself up to look his captor better in the eye. “I have no idea where Jason’s gone, Ra’s. But even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.”

Ra’s sighs then, like a parent who’s long come to terms with their offspring’s stubbornness. “As I expected, but disappointing nonetheless.” He glances up at the clock on the wall. “Still, I think I’ll have the butler killed first, to give you some time to reconsider.”

Tim’s heart thuds louder in his chest. “I don’t know where he is, Ra’s.” he says again, a little more desperately. “I’m telling you the truth. You’ll gain nothing from this.”

“That remains to be seen. Ten minutes, Timothy. You best pray that Mr. Todd is not so callous towards you all as you think he is.”

Tim swallows thickly, clenching his hands against the rope binding them. Even if he could work his way free of the knots, there are half a dozen guards in the room waiting to stop him, as well as Ra’s himself. His only chance to save their lives was to talk his way out of this, and he’s failed pretty spectacularly at that. If Bruce were here…

Well, if Bruce were here, this never would have happened. Ra’s had made sure to lure him and Dick out of the city for a reason, opening both Gotham and Damian to be his for the taking. Not just a power move to claim the boy he sees as his heir, but a takeover bid of the whole city as well. Petty vengeance for what he must see as Bruce’s part in his temporary demise.

God damn it. There’s got to be something else he can say. Something he can do to get Ra’s to stay his hand, even if just temporarily. Maybe if he gives a false lead he’ll hold off on killing Alfred until after it’s been investigated, but where? Where could he say Jason has gone?

Tim’s thoughts race alongside the ticking of the clock, and he’s about to blurt out the address of a Bludhaven safehouse when the door to the room opens and Ubu comes lumbering in.

He doesn’t look good. Head and face scorched, with a hastily applied bandage wrapped around his broad chest. Tim feels a small burst of pride for Jason, proving that he still has claws and isn’t afraid to use them when it comes to protecting his son.

The pride soon fades into an uneasy sense of worry, however, when Ubu moves to Ra’s side and leans down — with a visible wince — to whisper something in his ear.

“Hm.” Ra’s lips curl into a smile, causing Tim’s worry to double, before he stands up, setting down the wine glass before smoothing out his robes. “My apologies, Timothy, I must take my leave of you for a moment. I’m told I have a visitor waiting for me.” The curve of his lips sharpens, “Do try not to do anything foolish while I’m gone, I’d hate for my men to have to start the festivities early.”

The implication is clear, and Tim can’t believe it. No way. No _way._

“Ra’s, wait! Wait!” He calls, but to no avail. The door falls shut behind the Demon’s Head as he leaves the room with Ubu, and Tim can only bite his lip and strain uselessly against the rope binding his arms while hoping his brother really hasn’t been that foolish.

_Shit._

 

* * *

 

This was a bad idea. Jason had known that from the start, and had it emphasised to him by Roy aboard the _Pequod_ , but it’s only now — as he’s being patted down and searched for hidden weapons by Ra’s’ minions — that it really hits him just how spectacularly terrible it is. Desperation does funny things to people, not least making them act stupidly in the face of a ultimatum.

He could be safe at Selina’s place right now, curled up with Damian while other people take the big risks on his behalf. Maybe even somewhere outside the city, if he’d kept to the Batboat instead of seeking help, heading either further up or down the coast. Only…

Only Jason knows that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least _try_ to save his family, after all they’ve done to save him and his son in the past.

He grits his teeth as they take his guns and knife, as he expected. Moreso when they search his jacket, emptying it of the smaller gadgets Jason had loaded himself up with. They don’t seem to notice the tracker Selina planted on him, though, and it’s only when one man gestures at him to strip off so they can search more thoroughly that he gives in to the urge and growls in warning, setting his feet apart ready for a fight.

Immediately, their hands go to their weapons, and the whole situation seems about to go rapidly south when the sudden sound of a door opening nearby instantly derails it. Jason and the ninjas together look toward the noise, just as Ra’s al Ghul himself steps into the hallway, sweeping his eyes over the scene with cool amusement.

“Mr. Todd,” he says. The ninjas around Jason take an immediate step back, snapping to attention. “I do believe when I told you to return here, it was with the understanding you would bring my grandson with you as well.”

Jason resists the urge to follow the ninjas example. This is what he’s here for. To be the distraction. To keep Ra’s occupied long enough for the others to move into position.

Time to make his sales pitch.

“I’m here to negotiate, Ra’s.” he says, making himself meet the alpha’s gaze.

“Negotiate.” The amusement grows. Behind Ra’s, Ubu also steps out into the entrance hall, arms folded across his now heavily bandaged chest as he glowers at Jason. “And what makes you think you have that luxury?”

“Because I’m the only person here who can give you what you want,” Jason answers stiffly, “And I…” he doesn’t have to fake hesitancy. Even knowing he’s lying, the words taste like ashes in his mouth. “I’m willing to consider surrendering myself and Damian to you, provided you give me some assurances first.”

“I have already promised to spare the lives of your family. Do you doubt my word?”

 _Yes,_ Jason thinks privately, before going on to say, “No. I mean, I don’t need assurances about that,” he swallows, “I need them about… other things.”

Now he has Ra’s full consideration. “Indeed?” he asks, one eyebrow raised with interest, “Well then, by all means,” he sweeps his hand towards the interior of the house, “Let us talk.”

Jason is led down the hall in the opposite direction from which Ra’s came. _Escorted_ , as if he’s a stranger to his own home. He’d bet anything that back that way lie Tim and Alfred, and wishes he could somehow communicate that to Selina without giving himself away. As much as it pains him, Jason knows he’s just going to have to trust that she knows what she’s doing, and comforts himself in knowing that there’s no one on Earth better at breaking into a house — _any_ house — undetected than Catwoman.

They end up in the smoking room, where once — back in the days when Wayne Manor actually held such affairs — the alphas and betas of the household would retire to speak about business and other similarly dull topics separate from their omegas. It’s a beautiful space, with lacquered wood panels covering the walls, and an impressive view of the gardens beyond the window (or at least it would be, were it not currently nighttime). A billiard table stands on one side, while on the other there are a number of comfortable leather chairs and small mahogany wood tables. Ra’s gestures for Jason to take a seat by one of them.

Gingerly, he sits down, and isn’t the least bit surprised when Ra’s chooses to take the chair opposite him. Steepling his hands together in his lap, he smiles calmly at Jason across the table; the slick, slightly slimy smile of a businessman. “I must admit, I’m a little surprised that you were able to come here without my grandson.”

“I left him with a friend. Someone I trust.”

Ra’s’ eyes narrow thoughtfully. “I wasn’t aware you had any friends remaining in the city I hadn’t already taken care of. But no matter. These assurances you wish me to give you?”

Jason squirms a little uncomfortably — again, it’s not really an act. “I’d feel better talking about this without your chargrilled gorilla standing behind me.”

Ubu, who has indeed taken up a position at Jason’s back, takes that moment to growl deeply.

Ra’s on the other hand, chuckles, “Don’t worry,” he says, “He won’t harm you without my say so. His loyalty is stronger than any personal grudge he may hold.”

That would be reassuring, if Jason in any way trusted Ra’s.

But fine. He’s dealt with Ubu before, he can do it again if necessary. “Before, you said that if I surrendered to you, I wouldn't be separated from Damian.”

“And I meant it, of course. You are a ferocious creature, Jason. I respect your desire to protect your offspring.”

_Just apparently not enough to stay the hell away from us._

“I need to know how that will work, if I agree to it.”

“Ah,” Ra’s nods. Hopefully, he’s taking the fact Jason’s here at all as a sign he’s balancing on the edge of giving in to his threat, and all he needs is a little push to take that final step. “You know, young Drake was thoroughly convinced you would abandon him and the rest of your family for the sake of your son. I’m sure he’ll be much relieved to discover you do care for him in some way after all.”

Jason twitches. He knows Ra’s is just trying to get his under his skin, but it’s still a wounding statement, and doesn’t ease in any way his worry over the wellbeing of Tim, Alfred and Barbara. “Answer the question, Ra’s.”

“Very well. It is as I said, I will allow you to remain with your son. To care for him, as a mother does; taking care of his wellbeing while I see to his education.”

“His education?” Jason echoes, warily.

“Of course. From my understanding, the boy is vastly behind where he should be. You have only recently initiated him into the grasp of letters and numbers, he speaks but one language, and has no prowess in any martial art whatsoever. Naturally, catching him up will be difficult, but not impossible.”

Jason openly stares at Ra’s. “He’s _four._ ”

“He is an al Ghul.” Ra’s replies, impassively.

“A child!” Jason’s anger burns bright. “And he deserves a childhood, just like any other.”

“Like you did?” The words slice through Jason, leaving him cold. Ra’s smiles, “I am well aware of your desire to give Damian what you never had, Jason. That you have isolated him from the truth of his pack’s identities and occupations because of it. But what I offer Damian is so much more than a boring, mundane life. His blood ensures he is destined for greatness; my goal is to make sure he has it.”

For a moment, Jason can’t speak, too stunned to deny what was said. “How... how do you know all that?”

He’s always been aware that the League spies on him and Damian, as well as the rest of their family, but those details… they’re too specific. Too intimate for anything mere observation could tell someone. Did they somehow manage to sneak a bug into his apartment, the manor? No. They always scanned for those, there’s no way that could have happened.

Then again, this does seem to be a day for previously thought impossibilities coming true.

“I know a lot about you, Jason Todd. Ever since I learned of my grandson’s existence, I’ve made you something of an area of study for myself.” Ra’s smiles, lazily flicking a finger towards him. “Your therapist’s notes in particular made for some quite interesting reading.”

Jason’s heart seizes in his chest. “You didn’t—”

“Dr. Hunt is alive and well, my men simply made copies of her files. Though that too can change.” The smile drops from Ra’s’ face as he leans forward. “Let us be clear with each other, Jason. My terms are non-negotiable. I hold the lives of both your remaining pack and every other person in this accursed city in my hands, and if I must carve a path of blood through the thorns to reach my grandson, I will do so gladly. The responsibility for just how far that goes rests solely on your shoulders.”

In addition to his heart, Jason’s jaw now clenches down. His hands threaten to shake, and he quickly curls them into fists to hide it.

Not giving away any overt sign that he notices, Ra’s then continues. “I am not, however, entirely without generosity. Or understanding. There are many things I can offer you in exchange for your cooperation, should you choose to come willingly with Damian to the League.”

_Keep him talking. Just keep him talking. Make him think you’re playing right into his hands._

“Like what?” Jason asks, between gritted teeth. The smell of Ra’s seems stronger in his nose, threatening to derail his thoughts with its alpha putridness. He fights to stay focused through it.

Ra’s’ smile returns. “I know how you’ve chafed under the Detective’s command these past two years, Jason. How even as you’ve recently taken steps to return to your role as a protector of the people, you’ve continued to be held on a leash. No killing; no righteous judgement. I on the other hand would allow you that path with no such restraints, if it is your wish.”

“Yet you’d still use Damian as a tether to control me,” he says harshly, “Just like Bruce has.”

That’s if he’s even telling the truth, which Jason would bet his entire inheritance he isn’t. More likely he’ll find himself locked in a cage if he does say yes. One bound by empty promises.

Ra’s shrugs elegantly. “You’ve already compromised much in your life, I doubt this would be a much greater tax on your morals.” Leaning back once more, he continues, “Those are the terms of my offer, Jason. Accept them, or don’t. Either way, I will have my grandson in the end.”

Now would be a really goddamn good time for a distraction from his distraction. “I need to consider—”

“You’ve already had time to consider. Three hours of it.” Ra’s tone becomes more clipped, more alpha in its depth and command. A shudder runs up Jason’s spine. “I will have your answer now, I think, or I will kill one of your pack. Well? _Speak,_ omega.”

Behind Jason, Ubu moves a step closer, the floorboard creaking under his foot. He smells of charred flesh and threat — not helping Jason’s war between his instinctive desire to submit and his logical urge to fight before he gets completely penned in.

Gritting his teeth, he says, “Let them go first, then I’ll tell you where Damian is.”

Ra’s tsks softly, “I did say my terms were non-negotiable, did I not? I know well you’d sacrifice your own life for your child in a heartbeat. Holding you alone does me no favours in that regard.” His gaze lifts, “Ubu.”

“Yes, master.”

Jason hears the lumbering brute take a step back, presumably towards the door and ready to pass on the execution order at Ra’s’ request. _Shit_. Shit, shit... He needs to think of something fast.

“Wait!” Jason jerks forwards, biting hard at his lip. “I… fine. Fine. Fuck, you win. I’ll tell you.”

Ra’s lifts his hand as his eyes cooly return to Jason, and Ubu moves back behind him. “Go on.”

A fake address will have to do. At least it’ll buy him some time. Jason lets his shoulders curve inwards, lets his posture change to one of submission. An action that isn’t as hard as he wishes it was with all the alpha scent in the air. “I… I have an old safehouse in the Bowery. Back from when I was the Red Hood. My friend’s watching him there. She’s just a civilian. Doesn’t know anything about this, so don’t hurt her. Please.”

“The address, Jason.” Ra’s says, impatiently.

He opens his mouth to give it, which is when a sudden clatter sounds outside the smoking room’s door and it flies open. A single black clad ninja drops to his knees immediately in front of the threshold. “Master! I beg your forgiveness for my intrusion, but there is a—”

Jason doesn’t wait to hear him finish. Lunging forwards, he grabs one of the heavy ceramic ashtrays from the table in front of him, stands up and swings it back into Ubu’s jaw. Then, a bare second later, hooks his boot under the edge of the table itself, sending it flipping forward into Ra’s. It’s fast, just not quite fast enough.

Ubu roars in pain behind him. Jason hears him stagger back, then crash to the floor, hopefully now with a broken jaw in addition to the burns across his chest and face. But ahead of him Ra’s has already slid smoothly out of range of his attack, and all things told Jason knows he’s the biggest threat. Ra’s has six centuries of fighting experience behind him, and he’s not so foolish as to believe he can take him on alone.

This is the weakest part of his plan. The part that had both Roy and Selina balking at him when he said it, before they acknowledged there really wasn’t much other choice. Jason needs to get out, regroup, and if Selina’s part has gone deadly wrong… well, then he’s probably fucked, but at least Damian will still be safe.

Jason starts to back away as Ra’s draws himself up to his full and impressive height, hand going to the hilt of the sword strapped at his waist. “You have just made a very grave mistake, Jason.” he snarls, voice lowering to a threatening rumble, “Now, when I find my grandson, I will make sure you _never_ see him again.”

The sounds sets a disarming shiver running up his spine, but still Jason manages to growl in return. “Good luck with that.”

“Seize him!”

Jason instinctively throw himself to the side as Ra’s shouts the order. Just in time too, as the ninja who’d burst into room just moments ago flies into the space he formerly occupied in a devoted bid to follow his master’s orders. Immediately Jason turns, spinning the movement into a kick that strikes the ninja in the shoulder to stagger him, then darts for the exit.

He makes it three steps before something locks around his ankle.

Jason swears as he pitches forwards onto the floor. He manages to catch himself with his hands, wincing at the impact, before twisting himself to look at the cause for his fall. Apparently already recovering from the blow to his face, Ubu has lunged after him and wrapped a meaty hand around his ankle.

Without hesitation, Jason lifts his other foot, drawing it back and then driving his heel down at Ubu’s wrist. Once, twice. Until with another roar of pain, and the sound of snapping bone, the brute lets go. Blood and spittle fleck the wooden floor as Ubu cringes back, but Jason doesn’t stay to admire his suffering. Regrouping with the others is his only goal right now.

He flips himself back up onto his feet, only to find that brief as the interruption was, it’s still been enough time for Ra’s to plant himself in the way of the door and for the ninja behind him to recover as well. Jason has less than a second to decide what he’s going to do — go forwards or go back — before he’s embroiled in combat yet again.

Darting for the billiard table, Jason snatches the nearest pool cue up from its green baize surface. It’s not the best weapon in the world, especially against a sword, but it’ll do for now. He swings it behind his back, slips into a stance (glad that he’s been training so much against Tim lately) and waits for the first of them to come at him.

It’s the ninja, of course. Far be it for Ra’s to get his hands dirty if he doesn’t need to.

He ducks the first swing of nunchaku — pulled from the ninja’s belt — at his head, and retaliates with a blow from the cue aimed at the man’s ribs. It hits, winding but not disarming him, and Jason quickly withdraws again for a second blow before his opponent can attempt to grab his weapon and pull it away. This time he jabs at the ninja’s shoulder, but the man manages to dodge to the side, tossing a shuriken at him that Jason is forced to knock out of the air before it can impale his chest. A brief glance back at the door tells Jason that Ra’s is still standing there watching him, before he’s forced to focus once again on his closer enemy.

Ducking under the ninja’s next attack, Jason rams into him with his shoulder, forcing the man back against the billiard table. He draws away just enough to first swing a punch at his face with his free hand, then use the cue in his other to sweep the man’s feet out from under him. He goes down heavily, and driven by instinct more than conscious decision, Jason moves in quickly to deliver the finishing blow.

As he raises the cue, anger rises inside his chest. At this intruder, this man, who infiltrated his home with the goal to help take his child away from him. Behind Jason’s eyes, a wave of green flashes, and for a moment he thinks about driving the pool cue down with enough force to pierce the ninja’s stomach rather than just cracking him over the head to knock him out. It would be a bloody and cruel death, but righteous, that’s what his heart says.

But then Jason gets another flash, this time of Damian’s face, his promise to Bruce, and the urge falters into costly hesitation.

From almost out of nowhere, Ra’s’ fingers jab into the side of his neck. Then his back, under his ribs, and at the base of his spine. The cue falls, dropped by suddenly lax fingers, as Jason discovers that in the wake of those blows his body now no longer wants to obey him. As if to drive that point home, his legs give out next, sending him crashing down onto his knees.

 _Nerve strikes_ , he thinks numbly. The bastard just used nerve strikes on him. He tries to turn his head up to look up at Ra’s, but even doing that much is a battle.

“Disappointing, Jason.” Ra’s sighs heavily, as the ninja scrambles back up onto his feet again and another comes darting into the room. “Very disappointing.” He snaps his fingers at his men. “Hold him.”

Hands seize Jason under his shoulders, and he can’t fight back as they drag him upwards. His arms and legs hang uselessly, like those of a puppet with its strings cut, until he’s about eye level with Ra’s’ chest. Then a cool hand catches Jason under his chin, forcing him to lift his head and meet his gaze.

“Fuck you.” Jason growls, pulling his lips back over his teeth before attempting to spit at Ra’s. His mouth at least he still has control over.

Ra’s’ gaze narrows, then in a blur of motion, he strikes Jason’s cheek with the back of his hand before growling, “Tell me what’s happened.”

It takes Jason a dizzying moment, and the voice of the second ninja that entered the room, to realise he isn’t the one being questioned.

“An intruder, master.” The man — an alpha, probably — says quickly, his grip on Jason as hard as iron. “Catwoman. She broke into the house, managed to take out the men guarding the butler and Robin and free them both. The rest of our forces are battling them now.”

“Catwoman.” Ra’s says, with an air of disgust. “Relying on thieves now, Jason? You are more resourceful than I thought. Though I suppose I should not be surprised. Need does drive desperation. The clocktower?” he asks next.

“There has been no communication, master.”

“Hn.” Nails dig into the soft skin of Jason’s jaw as Ra’s addresses him. “I imagine you think you’ve won with this foolish plan of yours, omega, but know that I am not so easily defeated. I am a patient man; even if I do not get my grandson this day, I will succeed on another.” Suddenly the grip is in Jason’s hair instead of on his jaw, forcing it back further to expose his throat. “All you have accomplished tonight is to delay the inevitable.”

“Screw you,” he manages to snarl out, “I don’t care what you do to me, you’ll never have Damian.”

“I disagree. But nonetheless, I will not be leaving this house empty handed.” Ra’s says impassively.

Jason realises what’s about to happen a second before it actually does, and the panic that fills his heart in response is base and overwhelming, drawn from the darkest depths of instinct as Ra’s leans down. He strains once again to jerk free of the hands holding him, but his body is still numb and unresponsive to his will. He can’t fight back. Can’t flee. Only cry out, in a shout that gradually transforms into a whimper, as sharp teeth clamp down over his windpipe in almost exact opposition to the lingering bitemark Dick left across the base of his neck only a day ago.

It _hurts_ , but only for a moment, and what comes next is in many ways worse than the pain.

As Ra’s bites deeper, Jason’s brain responds to the act of domination by dosing his veins with a haze of chemicals that compel him to surrender. That make every muscle not already paralyzed by the nerve strikes go soft and lax, filled with the need to present himself as anything but a threat. Every other thought goes soft and distant, replaced by behaviour as old as the dawn of humanity itself, woven deep into his DNA. In what’s left of his conscious mind, Jason hates it. Hates the violation. Hates the parts of him that are omega, and so easily malleable to displays of dominance. But the subconscious rules now, and his subconscious only wants the treatment to stop, no matter what that takes.

Ra’s releases him without biting deep enough to scar, something Jason vaguely knows he’ll be deeply grateful for later, before straightening back up. “Bring him.” he says harshly to his men, as Jason flinches back from alpha tone and volume, trembling with the need to curl up on himself he can’t fulfill. “I shall see what can yet be salvaged from your failure.”

Jason is pulled onto his feet, then dragged forwards between the two ninjas. Closing his eyes, he doesn’t look where they’re going.

 

* * *

 

Tim pants hard as he looks at the downed ninjas around him. At the other end of the hallway, Selina retrieves and curls up her whip, a little less winded than him. “You okay?” he asks her.

“Fine.” She replies, “Is that the last of them?”

“So far.” Tim’s not sure of the exact number of men Ra’s brought with him to invade the manor, but between them he and Selina have downed about twenty getting this far. There can’t be that many more left.

Together, they’d worked their way free of the room he and Alfred were initially being held in. Through the manor’s hallways towards the main hall. Alfred, who had mostly woken up by the time Selina broke into the room through the window, had been left to guard himself and their prisoners there with a gun lifted from one of them, while she and Tim sought to find Ra’s himself.

And Jason. While Tim had been beyond grateful for the rescue, he can’t help the part of himself that is furious with Jason for the reckless and risky nature of his plan. With limited time and resources, the smartest thing for him to do would have been to leave them to their fate, take Damian and go — even though, realistically, Tim knows that had he been in a similar position, he probably would have done the same thing.

The only difference is, he has a lot less to lose than Jason. A lot less people rely on him the way they do his brother, and out of the two of them, Tim knows who’s a more acceptable loss. It’s simple mathematics.

“Come on,” he says to Selina, determined to keep moving and find him.

They make it to the main door, checking rooms as they go with no result. Tim is starting to regret not keeping one of the ninjas conscious so they could question them as to where in the manor Ra’s went. He must know that Tim’s been broken free of his restraints by now, and the fact that Jason has yet to come find them worries him more with every passing second. All the signs pointing to the probability that his middle brother’s plan has gone awry.

Then Tim smells something. Undisguised alpha, and distressed omega.

“Oh shit,” Selina says in that moment, echoing his thoughts.

They turn towards the source, as Ra’s walks towards them from the dark innards of the house. Ubu is positioned at his shoulder, looking far worse than he did before with one arm held stiffly at his side and blood now covering his chin, while two remaining ninjas follow behind him, occupied with carrying something between them.

It takes Tim a moment to realise that the slumped figure is Jason. Through the dimly lit space of the hall, he has to strain to see him clearly, and what he finds on closer inspection is far from reassuring. Jason’s gaze is unfocused, his face turned down towards the floor, and even at this distance Tim can read the shaking in his shoulders. See the livid red mark on the front of his neck.

“Ra’s,” he growls, pulling his lips back over his teeth as he shifts into an aggressive stance, “What the hell did you do?!”

“I brought order, as one must when someone doesn’t know their place.” Ra’s answers coolly. “Stand down, Timothy.”

“Let him go.” Tim demands instead, taking a slow step forward. At his side, Selina mirrors the action with a threatening hiss.

“And why would I do that?” One of the ninjas holding Jason moves a small knife to his throat as Ra’s talks. “As you can plainly see, you do not have the upper hand in this situation; I do.”

Tim grits his teeth anew, so hard this time that he can hear them grinding beneath the sound of the snarl in his throat. “This won’t get you Damian, Ra’s; let him go.”

“Oh, I’m quite aware of that. Jason has made it quite clear how willing he is to sacrifice himself for his child, if not the rest of you. A credit to his gender to be sure.” The way Ra’s says it, he might as well be commenting on a dog. “Holding him will, however, ensure I don’t have to endure anymore foolishness from the two of you here.” He reaches down, actually running his fingers through Jason’s hair as one would a pet, “And even without Damian, I may have future use for him yet.”

“You _bastard_ ,” this time Selina is the one who speaks. Her outrage communicated fully by the crack of her whip against the floor. “Harm him and I’ll tear you apart myself.”

“Take one step closer and his blood will be across the floor first, I assure you.” Ra’s’ eyes focus on her for a moment. “It’s interesting that you should appear tonight, Catwoman; perhaps my grandson will not be so difficult to locate after all.”

She hisses at him, “Try it, see how well that works out for you.”

“Ra’s,” Tim interrupts them then, in one last desperate bid to pull reason into the discussion. “You know you’ve already lost here, don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be. Just let him go and walk away.”

“I am simply doing what I must for the greater good of this world. It is _you_ who are insisting on making things difficult.” Ra’s is the one to take a menacing step forward this time. “Stand down and you may keep your lives. Attack me and both you and Jason will die, I guarantee it.”

The horrible thing is, Tim knows he isn’t bluffing with that. Ra’s is one of the most dangerous men alive. Bruce can go head to head with him, but Tim? Even with Selina’s help, he doesn’t think he could do it. Ra’s is also backed up by his remaining forces. Ubu, bruised and battered but still a threat, as well as the two men holding Jason, who is locked in a submissive haze. And unless he’s doing a remarkable good job of faking it, Tim knows he won’t be able to help them.

But he can’t just let Ra’s walk out of here. He can’t let him _win_.

“You want a hostage?” He says, dropping his stolen weapon as he raises his hands in front of him, “Take me instead.”

“A tempting offer, Timothy,” Tim’s skin crawls as Ra’s’ eyes slide over him. Moreso at what he says next. “But sadly, you do not have the potential usefulness to me that Jason does.”

There’s plenty loaded in that statement Tim doesn’t want to think any deeper about.

God damn it, come on. There has to be something else he can do. Everyone tells him he’s a genius, so surely he can figure a way out of this. He just needs another minute, another second...

Selina moves to his side, and Tim almost jumps out of his skin when she turns her head to whisper right into his ear, “Let them go.”

_What?_

“No!” Tim replies instantly, “No, Selina, we can’t just—”

“Let them go.” She repeats again, so close her lips actually brush against his hair. “ _Trust_ me.”

Trust her? Tim’s damn glad she came here to help them, but trust her? He and Selina have never gotten along particularly well. Things got a little better after the business with Hush, but they’re still not great. She’s a thief, with only her interest in Bruce holding her on their side. If she wants him to do this just to save her own skin…

Tim bites his lip bloody. What choice does he have? If they die, Jason is screwed. If Jason dies, then Damian will have to grow up without a mother. But at least Selina’s way there’ll still be a future chance to set things right.

Acknowledging that is hard. Actually saying the words is harder.

“We’ll find you.” Tim raises his head, skirting round the truth as he glares at Ra’s. “Wherever you take him, we’ll track you down.”

Ra’s, still so arrogantly confident, simply smiles at the threat. “You are welcome to try. But that will not happen tonight. Not if you wish to save the Detective’s house at the very least.”

The hairs raise on the back of his neck. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t believe I really cared about possessing this manor, do you, Timothy? Coming here was always a temporary stop. I suggest you take a look into the cave below after I am gone. But on the off chance you do decide to forsake your home and follow me instead, know this; if I detect even the smallest hint of your presence behind us, I promise I will throw Jason’s bloody corpse out onto the road for you to find and bury.” After running his fingers through Jason’s hair again, Ra’s inclines his head towards him, “Until we meet again, Timothy.”

With a wave of his hand, Ra’s gestures for Jason to be carried out the door before following suit. There must be a car or something waiting outside for them, and Tim wishes he’d thought to go out there and sabotage the engines of any vehicles first. Bruce certainly would have if he’d been here.

Then again, he thinks bitterly, if Bruce were here a lot of things would be different.

The door shuts behind Ubu, the last to leave as he glowers at them over the ruined mess of his face, and it takes everything Tim has not to immediately go running after them. Instead, he turns to Selina, who though her face is grim, doesn’t look half as worried as Tim would expect.

“Get to the cave, bird boy,” she ushers him, “And don’t worry about finding Jason, I’ve got a few tricks left up my sleeve yet.”

He doesn’t know if he believes her. Doesn’t know if her assurance that everything will be all right can really hold true. Only that, right now, he has no other choice but to leave Jason’s fate in her hands.

Stifling everything else he wants to say to her (to shout, to scream), Tim turns around and dashes for the nearest entrance to the Cave, throwing himself down into its depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything ever goes well in my fics for more than five seconds please assume I am not really me.

**Author's Note:**

> ♥
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [Firefrightfic](http://firefrightfic.tumblr.com/)!


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